We Are
by 2charolette0catherine1daniels2
Summary: Because there is no you or you or me, only us from that day on. ...Bad Touch Trio centric, AU and future pairings, human names used... Full warnings and disclaimer inside.
1. Be My Friend

**A/N**: Well, I shall say this... I have never written a Hetalia fanfiction before, used any pairings or things like that, so this is all very, very new to me. Reviews for the beginner are much appreciated and constructive criticism is more than welcome.

I won't make this note very long, just a quick disclaimer and the warnings and I'll leave you be.

_~I don't own Hetalia or the characters used no matter how much I wish I did~_

_WARNINGS: Multiple pairings, straight and otherwise, Gakuen AU-ish, children characters, some later on language and violence, and realistic endings._

* * *

><p>The weather was anything but predictable here. Parents didn't listen to the weathermen- who praised rain one day and scorching heat the next- and sent their kids off to school with an umbrella, sunscreen, and a 'good luck' kiss. The small shoe boxes were jam packed of other climate change necessities- raincoats, scarves, mittens, boots, sunglasses, and ball caps for some sun-sensitive kids. And it wasn't just the boxes belonging to the unorganized children, no, everyone's cupboard was like that. You never knew what that sky was thinking. Take this past Thursday. The day before had been absolutely gorgeous, with a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze sweeping across the schoolyard all morning. The teachers elongated recess for ten minutes. Ten minutes! Granted, it felt more like two seconds to the energetic kindergartners, but time was still time.<p>

And the next day?

The next day frankly _sucked_. Seven in the morning and black clouds already clumped together across the sky, drizzles of rain trickling here and there as it pleased. By the time coloring lessons had started, thunder was resounding through the room and flashes of lightning confused some students as camera flashes. The teacher had to cuddle some of the more sensitive students, like the little blonde girl with the ribbon in her hair, always crying for her brother. They had to drag the kid out of the first grade building just so she would stop crying. He would adjust her bow a little bit and give her a big hug, reassuring her that it wouldn't hurt her as long as he was there. The teachers were absolutely undertaken by this caring gesture, some near tears of how thoughtful this big brother could be.

To Gilbert Weilschmidt though, it was sickeningly sweet and totally uncool... and therefore unawesome.

"_Gee_! He leaves the room _every _day!" He grumbled, chubby fingers rubbing through short, white clumps of hair that could use a good scrubbing, no thanks to the puddles this morning. "Bet he does it to skip out..."

A slightly smaller boy seated behind him, head thick with rich, auburn curls cleared his throat and ceased the motion of picking his jacket's left cuff. "Don't be so mean. Vash is nice."

Gilbert was shocked, turning around to see who would say something like that to him. Him, of all people. Ah, the new kid this year. Of course. He didn't know any better to stop talking when the awesome started. "No he's _not_!" Gilbert sneered back, if not for the sake of argument, then just for the sake of being six years old. "He sits by himself and smells like _cheap cheese_!"

"No he _doesn't_!" This kid... Antonio, was it? He looked almost... sad and hurt, though he was sticking up for someone he barely knew. "He's nice. He helped me with my book."

"He _did _your _homework_?" Gilbert snickered at the growing horrified expression on his face. "You _cheated_?"

"I didn't say _that_!" Green eyes became wide with worry.

"I'm gonna tell the teacher on _yoo~u_!"

"_Don't_!" Those big eyes filled up with tears almost instantly, slightly catching Gilbert off guard. This wasn't good. He couldn't get in trouble again! His dad was super strict and, well, he already had been disciplined for gluing the young aristocrat's science book together. That hadn't ended pretty for any side of the argument. And now this? Gilbert might have been a bit rambunctious, but he wasn't an idiot. Something like this meant a swat on the rear and three weeks without television.

If it was possible for the albino to turn even paler than he was, he was doing it. "Hey! I'm just joking, _gee_!" That didn't help. Antonio looked down at his lap, trying to suppress the audible sobs, pink cheeks starting to puff up. "Uh... I really _was_! Wanna know why?" Gilbert got out of his seat and leaned into the boy's ear, whispering, "I copy off Lizzy all the time."

This seemed to work for whatever odd reason. "...You _do_?" He stopped crying and sniffed, thank goodness the snot bubbles hadn't started to form.

"Yeah! I was gonna say we can be friends and cheat off her _together_, but since you're a goody-two-shoes, I _dunno_..." Gilbert sat back down, but still leaned over the back of his desk, watching the unease settle with vibrant crimson eyes.

The boy shuffled around before clearing his throat again, some of the words coming out a bit raspy. "...We can still be friends..." Antonio muttered, shifting in his seat.

Huh? He just made the new kid cry and now he wanted to be friends? "You want to be friends? With me? _Why_?"

"Well, I'm new and I don't have any friends here..."

Gilbert mused over this thought. Well, at least his TV privileges were safe. "Okay, sure. I'm Gilbert."

"I know. I'm Tonio. Well, Antonio, but everyone just calls me by my nickname."

"I know." They shared an awkward, silent chuckle. "We're friends now?"

"Uh huh, I guess." Antonio smiled shyly, kicking his red rain boots together. "Do you have any other friends?"

Gilbert, like any other hyperactive first grader, was absolutely enthralled to have an excuse to stand in his seat- though the actual reasoning of his act was questionable. "I have Francy-pants! Back row, looks like a girl." He thrust out a pointed finger, completely pinning his statement on a student in the very back of the classroom. Antonio modestly turned his head, catching sight of the person mentioned. "He's _okay_, a little weird and likes girls too much, probably because he looks like one." Gilbert snickered, amused by his own joke. He plopped down on his knees, rocking back and forward.

Antonio mused over the face for a second. He knew that boy... Francis. He always acted nice. And he was also very pretty with his shoulder-length curly blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes, which Antonio wasn't sure was a good or bad thing. "He's your friend?"

"Yeah, kinda."

A huge clap of thunder slightly shook the windows. Francis jumped at the sound, looking up at the high windows and glaring at the gray sky. A snickering noise made him frown and glare at the front of the row. "Don't laugh at me!"

"_Kesesesesese_! You're _funny_, Francy-pants!" Gilbert cackled, holding his stomach for 'dramatic effect'. "The thunder's gonna _get_ ya! Better run to mommy!"

"You know, it _might_! And don't call me that!"

"Francy-pants, _Francy-pants_!"

"_Gilbert_!"

"Oh, _what_?" Red eyes more playful than malicious, Gilbert stuck out his tongue at the boy. "Whatcha gonna do? Gonna _cry_? _Huh_? Cry like a baby?"

Francis huffed and folded his arms. Turning up his nose he looked away and drew out his voice. "_I'm _not going to do _anything_. Only _babies _would cry and only _idiots _would talk to you."

"Nuh _uh_!"

"Uh _huh_!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Yeah!"

"Nuh uh times a kajillion, million, quadrillion, billion-" Here Gilbert had to take in a deep breath to keep from sputtering. "-trillion, _zillion_!"

How were these two friends? "Guys, please stop." Antonio held out his hands between them. "Let's not fight, please." The two boys calmed down, but were still chanting silent insults at one another. Gilbert denying, Francis implying, and poor little Antonio just trying to keep the peace.

The friendly bickering between these three built up and up and up until it completely shut down along with the room's electricity. The initial reaction was to scream and cry 'mommy', which half of the class did. The other half went silent, dry-mouthed with surprise and perhaps a little fear. The teacher immediately came running into the classroom with a small bit of panic on her face. "Everyone, settle down, it's alright. Keep calm, okay? It'll be dark for a bit, but there's nothing to worry about. Feliks, stay in your seat! _Natalia_, hands _off _Eduard! Oh, Tino, stop crying..."

"Neat!" Gilbert grinned. "The dark is _awesome_!" He pulled the cap eraser from his pencil and chucked it at Roderich, laughing uncontrollably as the boy jumped, screaming like a girl. "Haha! Snooty boy's _afraid _of the _dark_!"

"Grow up for a minute, Gil!" Francis rolled his eyes. "Quit being so mean!" Antonio nervously glanced around the room. He didn't do storms well, and the darkness only made the boy more jittery. He put his head down on his desk and covered his ears from the resounding thunder.

"Wow, the sky's angry!" Gilbert exclaimed, craning his neck up to see out the high window. "There's a lot of flashy too!"

"..._Flashy_? You mean lightning?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I mean flashy."

Francis rolled his eyes and looked at the clock hooked above the chalkboard. He had to squint to see the numbers in the dark... The short hand between the ten and the eleven and the long one was almost reaching the eight... Whatever that meant. They hadn't had lunch yet though, so it must have been early. "Can you tell time, Gilbert?"

"Tch! _Yeah_!" He guffawed.

"Well, what time is it?"

Gilbert stared at the wall clock, squinting his eyes and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Five nineteen."

It was about here when Antonio raised his head again.

"No it's _not_! It can't be _that _late!"

"_You _asked _me_!"

"Papa gets home at five! We can't still be at _school_!"

"We're stuck here _forevaa~ar_!" Gilbert exaggerated the form of his speech, nearly screaming the last word and shaking his head violently.

"_Gilbert_! Be quiet or your father's getting a call!" At this the albino boy shrank down and put his arms on the top of his head, muttering a soft 'gee!'

For some odd reason, Antonio laughed. Despite their situation the argument was rather funny.

"Tonio! You're _supposed _to be my _friend_! Don't laugh at me!" Gilbert whined and stuck out his bottom lip.

"I like _him_! Tonio, you're awesome." Francis smiled, leaning over his desk to sit on his bent leg and raise his view level. Gilbert stared up at them with awe-filled eyes.

"No he's _not_! _I'm_ awesome! _Me_! Me me _me_-"

"Gilbert Weilschmidt, if I have to call your name _one more time_!"

The fighting stopped shortly after.

.-.-.-.-.-.

The power turned back on around an hour later- which was still earlier than the time Gilbert had declared. Class resumed normally after an inside lunch- with the occasional rumble of thunder -and that day, ironically enough, the teacher introduced the hands of the clock. Francis would constantly bend to his left to steal glances at Gilbert, who's ears turned a vibrant red once he realized he was wrong. Horrendously wrong. The blonde giggled, earning a short glare and later a stuck out tongue. Antonio only smiled, still kicking his boots together. Maybe they were friends after all. Sure, they teased each other and argued constantly over the smallest things, but when the teacher dismissed the class at three thirty both boys helped each other get their boots and jackets on. Gilbert even helped them both open their umbrellas- calling them 'unawsome' the whole time, of course.

Maybe it wasn't the best friendship, but it was still a friendship. And Antonio really wanted to be a part of it.

He shuffled out in the rain, kicking puddles here and there until he got to the corner of the block. He looked around and noticed his mama hadn't come to pick him up yet. Oh well. The rain smelled nice and it wasn't too cold. He could wait a little while. "_Tonio_!" The splashing was quite audible behind him. "Did your mom _forget_ you?" Gilbert snickered, playing the I-ran-so-hard-to-get-to-you-now-I-am-out-of-breath part pretty well. He wiped his hand across his brow and let out an almost offensively loud '_PHEW_!'

"_No_, she didn't!" Antonio frowned. "Mama's coming!"

"Don't make him cry again, Gilbert. You're being a meanie." Francis walked up from behind him, carrying his umbrella with unusual grace for someone of his short stature.

"I'm not a _meanie_!" Really? More arguing? Antonio frowned. Couldn't they just leave each other alone for one second?

"Well, you're an idiot. You'll get sick out in the rain. Get _under_ here!" He lifted the umbrella slightly so it covered them both.

"_Ha_! I'm too awesome to get sick!" Gilbert puffed out his chest and ran off, splashing around in numerous puddles, kicking up water left and right, up and down, but thankfully not on the other two boys.

"My grandma told me that idiots can't catch colds." Antonio stated matter-of-factly. Gilbert stopped jumping and stomped his foot instead.

"I'm _not _an idiot!"

"What about today? You said it was five nineteen!" Francis shook the umbrella at him. "Get under!" Gilbert only danced around harder, the rain soaking his hair and jacket.

"Are you two _really_ friends?" Antonio asked, receiving an incredulous look from Francis.

"Yeah. He's my neighbor." The blonde rested the umbrella on his shoulder. "We met because I had to call the firemen to get him out of our front yard tree."

"_You _called the firemen? By _yourself_?"

"Yep." A twinge of pride made Francis lift his head a bit higher. "Mama and Papa left me with a lazy babysitter, so I had to call them all by _myself_."

Antonio smiled toothily, revealing that he had lost a few. "How cool! Oh, and, um, byt the way... I was wondering if you would be my friend?" Francis returned the lip-stretching smile to show off his missing canine.

"Yeah!"

"_Hey_! Tonio's _my _friend, not _yours_, Francy-pants!"

"Sharing is caring!"

"_Fine_!" With that exasperated statement, Gilbert let out a rather violent sneeze.

"I _told _you you'd get sick!"

"Gilbert, you want my jacket?" Antonio offered up.

"_Nah_!" Sneeze after sneeze after sneeze after... yeah. "...Yes, please..." Antonio took off his jacket and Francis moved the umbrella over them both. "Is anyone's car here yet?"

"Nope..."

"_Gee_..." So the three of them stood at the corner, scattering whenever a car drove by and kicked up water at them, watching the big kids trying to decide on who would back their trucks out first, and snickering when teachers couldn't get their umbrellas open. They subconsciously huddled together to keep warm, drawing some 'aww's and 'how cute's from adults passing by. No matter how many offered rides were given by other parents, teachers, or older students, they shook their heads and smiled with a friendly 'no thanks'. And when Francis's mother and Gilbert's father arrived not much later, the boys refused to leave Antonio until his mama came.

And when they were asked how their day was, each could respond with "I made a new friend!"

And that was the start of that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I hope no one's OOC, but... They're first graders!

The power out incident was actually something that happened to me in second grade (yes, I was the one who got hit by the eraser... I feel your pain, Roderich). And there really was a kid in our class that called the lightning 'flashy'. I live in tornado alley, so storms are really common. We used to have to do tornado drills all the time in elementary, and this past June a huge storm swept through my town, uprooted and split trees in half, bent light posts, all that good stuff. I'm usually really calm around storms, but not when my flimsy rent house is shaking from the wind!

...Yeah, I kinda freaked that time...

But seriously, power outs suck.

And Gilbert's character was SO fun to write about. I always pictured him as the obnoxious loud-mouth child...

...Oh wait.


	2. Competing

**A/N**: Wow! That's a fair amount of hits for one chapter! I _REALLY _love how it's spread... One or two in Norway, A couple in Germany, Australia, Italy, France, Singapore, Japan, Canada, the Philippines, Chile, the U.K., my USA, Poland, Malaysia, Switzerland... And many more! That's fifteen different countries and counting!

My lovely fave and alerts, you are all very much appreciated! And the awesome review of awesomeness is... Awesome?

It's kind of hard writing about little kids, I'm an only child of 16 and the youngest little brother my friend has is 10 or 11... And he acts kind of grown up for his age. What am I supposed to do, I mean? Stalk little children on the playground? I'm not Spain, lol! (Actually, in my trio of 12th grade friends I'm Prussia. Yeah.)

_Alriiiight_... Let's keep this awkward ball rolling.

* * *

><p>"All he had to do was restart the computer! I can't <em>believe <em>he couldn't figure it out!" Gilbert sucked on the straw to his near-empty apple juice box. "I mean, I'm in_ third grade_ and I fixed it easy!" He threw the container into Antonio's reach and earned a shocked glance from both of his friends. "Suppose I'm just _awesome_!"

"We _know_, you've been saying that for two years _straight_!" Francis heaved a sigh, picking up the box and chucking into the trash. "But you still can't tell time... Mr. _Five Nineteen_!" Gilbert frowned and banged his fist on the lunch table.

"That was the beginning of _first grade_! Will you ever drop it?"

"Nope!"

"Come on, guys! I don't want to get in trouble again... Last time you started shouting the teachers made us wash windows, remember?" Antonio began to gather the rest of the trash off the table. "And Gilbert, you almost broke your leg because you couldn't reach the high spot."

"_Hey_! I reached it! I'm not a short pansy like you unaweosme guys!"

"Oh yes..." Francis grabbed the boy's lanky arm- resembling a gangly stick- and let if flop like a dead fish to his side. "_So _not a pansy. Macho, even."

"Shut up, Francy-pants!"

"Five nineteen, _five nineteen_!"

Antonio sighed, shaking his head. This pretty much summed up the two years they had been friends. Gilbert would boast about something that happened this weekend, Francis would turn up his nose and throw the 'five nineteen' line out there- which, surprisingly enough, hadn't grown old over the course of two years- and Antonio, wanting nothing more than to stay out of trouble, tried a few times to get them to knock it off... More often than not to no avail.

But this time was just the tiniest bit different. Last week the teacher had announced that there would be a 'fundraiser' for one of the town's food pantries. You'd be paired up into groups of three, four, or five to try and collect as many food items as you could. The elementary class with the greatest amount of items would be getting a pizza party, and the group with the largest amount from all the grades would not only have their picture in the town's newspaper, but would also get free tickets to the upcoming carnival next month. The entire class had jumped around for a few minutes in sheer excitement, scrambling around the room to get into groups. Immediately, the trio of friends grabbed hands and wouldn't let go- with them together, they'd have this competition in the bag!

There were some rules, however. The items had to be within expiration date, canned or packaged to last- no meat or fresh fruit for example-, each student had to bring at least one item, and perhaps the most important rule of all, the one that had Antonio just the tiniest bit worried...

If a student had to be disciplined in any severe manner, it would result in immediate disqualification for that child and his or her group.

He hoped that nothing would happen for them to get kicked out. But he wouldn't be heartbroken if there was no prize. He didn't mind giving to those in need with no reward. Of course, that wasn't to say the tickets or the pizza party wouldn't be nice, but it didn't seem necessary to him.

Antonio wasn't a wealthy child. His family lifestyle was modest, teaching him valuable lessons like packaging away leftovers and recycling any halves of unused paper, and just how to live in a very frugal and sensible manner. He understood that others had it less fortunate than him, and this was a great opportunity to help out those in need.

But at the same time, Antonio wondered... Why were they going to have a huge pizza party when the goal was to collect canned food for the _hungry_? A few months ago someone in their class brought only a couple boxes of pizza for her birthday and they couldn't finish half of it. As Antonio left the classroom, he went to throw a dirty napkin away and noticed that most of the food was in the trash. He was positive there would be more pizza at this party than the kid had brought that day and therefore more food trash. Why was there going to be so much waste? Couldn't the class just get a good grade instead of a pizza party? Or at least have the celebration with the hungry...

Oh well. It bothered him, but the adults probably knew best. And besides, it got Gilbert and Francis excited and therefore made him forget about his worries, even if just for a moment.

But if they kept this up, there wouldn't even be a thought about the contest.

"_OW_! Gilbert, that's not _fair_!" Francis cried out, a firm lock of his golden hair grasped firmly between the albino's fingers. "_Let me go_!"

"Ha ha! Got your hair, pretty boy, got your _ha~ir_!" Gilbert cackled, shaking his prize around and about. With each yank Francis let out a pained cry, trying to wrestle free from his hold. Antonio gasped and ran around their lunch table, frantic to do something. Anything!

It hit him! He reached under Gilbert's armpit and began to tickle him as furiously and fast as his little fingers could go. Gilbert shrieked, pulling both arms to his chest and letting go of Francis's hair in the process. "_Kesesesesese_! T-Tonio, _sto~op it_!" He twitched around like a fish out of water, sputtering laughs in the form of breathless gasps. After a few moments of the kind torture, Antonio decided he had enough and withdrew his hands. "Kesese... Tonio, that was so unawesome!"

"You're such a jerk, Gilbert!" Francis hissed, clutching the portion of his scalp that had nearly been torn away. "I _hate _you!"

This got his attention. Gilbert let his jaw hang a little loose... Sure they quarreled on a regular basis, but Francis never said he hated him before. He scuffed the bottom of his sneaker- which needed to be tied- on the tile floor, barely scraping the edge of a forgotten sandwich crust. "Sorry..." He mumbled, looking down at guilty hands. "I'm _really_ sorry, Francy."

Antonio patted both of their backs, green eyes both hopeful and concerned. "Well, no one's dead, right? Everything's okay! Gilbert said sorry, Francis. Do you forgive him?"

The blonde frowned and glared across the table, eyes still a bit moist. "..._Yeah_. I _guess_."

"Good!" At that, the bell rang and the children lined up to leave the cafeteria.

Antonio noticed that Gilbert held the door open for Francis on their way out.

.-.-.-.-.-.

By the end of the school day, all three of them had forgotten about lunch and were now jokingly- or _hopefully _joking, anyway- about how to _dramatically _take hold of the contest and win easy- and I dramatically emphasize '_dramatically'_. Gilbert suggested they buy a rocket launcher... But that idea died once Francis stated that it would probably cost more than all the money in their piggy banks combined. Antonio said they should just do their best and see where that took them. Boring, but realistic they all decided, and started to kick all the rocks in their path- Except for Francis, who had worn the expensive pair of shoes today.

"This is my house. I'll see you guys tomorrow!" Gilbert waved them off and jogged to a rather nice, light blue house with a simple flower garden in the front.

"Bye, Gilbert!" Antonio waved extravagantly back.

"See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Tonio! Bye, Francis!" He strolled through the front, almost forgetting to shut the door behind him. And even then he still forgot to take off his shoes.

Gilbert threw his overflowing book bag on the living room's couch and skipped to the kitchen area. "Hey, mom!"

His mother looked over her shoulder with wide, scarlet eyes. "_Gilbert_! I was just about to come get you! Did you _walk_ from school?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. It's sunny today and Antonio and Francis wanted to talk about our contest. It's okay. We only live a few blocks from the school now, anyway." That's right. It suddenly clicked in his head. They had to leave their old house and move to another because of the additional family member last year. "Where's Ludwig?"

A few seconds of shocked silence brewed between them before he got his answer. "Your father has him upstairs. Gilbert, honey, listen. I'm happy you were outside, and with your friends, but I need_ to know _if I'm supposed to get you or not. What if I had left and found you weren't at school?" She ran her fingers through the base of her long, snow white hair. "You _shouldn't_ have done that."

"Sorry, mom." He shuffled his feet together. A hopeful glance in his eyes, he dared to ask, "Can I play with Luddy before I do my homework tonight?"

With a sigh, she leaned her back against the counter and laughed. "Go ahead." Gilbert grinned ear to ear and wrapped his arms around her legs- not quite tall enough yet to reach her waist- and began to run upstairs, nearly tripping over that still untied shoelace. "...That boy..."

Gilbert barely caught himself in time so he wouldn't trample his upright brother. Wait. Upright? "_Luddy's walking_!" He exclaimed. The toddler stared up with big, blue eyes and fell backwards. "Luddy was _walking_, dad!" Gilbert dropped to his knees and gently pushed his baby brother onto his back, tickling his small, pudgy tummy and earning a few protesting- and somewhat annoyed, even- whines in return.

"Yes, I know. Mom made me get out the camera yesterday when he was teetering around." Gilbert almost laughed. The only person who could order his dad around was mom. Not even the broad-shouldered, firm jawed man with hands that would rival a bear's in size and power could stand up against mom's demands. "He's almost year and two months. He'll be walking around without a problem in a few weeks, I'm sure of it."

Somehow the boy's smile just got wider. "Hear _that_, Luddy? You'll be all grown up and walking like a pro in _no time_! Then the first thing I'll teach you is how to play catch! _Er_... When you're a little bigger..." A baseball to the head was no appealing idea for any age. The toddler just rolled around, whining softly until he was back on his knees. "Can he understand us? He's _really_ quiet!"

Dad ruffled Gilbert's hair. "No, he's quiet_er_ than you were. You cried almost every night, and no matter what we did you just wouldn't stop. We eventually had to buy you the stuffed bird so you'd go to sleep." Ah. So that was the origin of the over-sized stuffed canary, otherwise known as Gilbird. "And those were the easy years! Ten months in, only ten months, and you were crawling around the house, going... '_Why? Why?_'... Before you could even stand. You were a serious talker, son. You still are."

"Gee, _thanks _dad." Gilbert folded his arms sarcastically and his dad let out a rare chuckle. "Really though, I wanna hear what he sounds like when he's not crying!" Not that he even did much of that. Ludwig was an unusually silent baby. The only reaction Gilbert could ever get was when he read his assigned books to him. Ludwig would flop over on his side, gripping the blanket in his crib and staring with an open mouth as big brother would slowly read 'Ferdinand the Bull', 'Frindle', and sometimes, if he was feeling unusually lazy, 'The Poky Little Puppy' to the both of them. Occasionally he would look up and ask, '_Like it, Luddy?_' An immediate noise of approval and toothless grin gave him his answer, but as soon as it was there it had vanished.

Ah well. Gilbert would soon teach his baby brother how to be awesome and not an expressionless stick in the mud.

Plus, a baby-crying-free house wasn't a horrible thing.

Said toddler was now attempting to stand up again, taking a few wobbly steps to the left before falling over and nearly hitting his head on the edge of his parent's bed support. Gilbert winced and put his hands around Ludwig's torso. "Should we bring him downstairs?"

"I think that's a good idea." Dad nodded. Gilbert picked up Ludwig and let out a loud grunt. "Heavy?"

"_Yes_! He's a _chunk_! Dad, you carry him..." Shoulders slumped in defeat, Gilbert set his brother down- though there wasn't much vertical distance anyway. In one swoop, dad picked him up, earning two surprised faces.

"_Whoa_! You _are _getting heavy, little man."

"_How _are you so _strong_? But I'll be stronger than you one day, dad!" Gilbert laughed, offering Ludwig one of his fingers. Almost immediately, the digit was snatched and promptly chomped on. "_Ow_! He has _teeth _too! When did he get _those_?" Dad only shook his head with a warm smile and headed downstairs. "Luddy, I said it before to be nice, but you're _really _growing up!"

"There you boys are. Gilbert, you've had your fun time, so go do your homework." As stated, don't say no to mom. Though grudgingly, Gilbert slunk to the living room, reaching for th- "And _no television _while you're doing it!" .

..Moms had eyes on the back of their heads. That was it. Well, that is to say it would explain a lot. He groaned, changing the direction of his hand to grab a pencil and start on math. Let's see... Three times three was nine, and ten divided by five was... Two...

.-.-.-.-.

It took Francis a while to take off his shoes. The laces were rather stiff despite the numerous times he had worn them. A soft pitter-pat came from around the corner, followed by a gentle rub around his ankles. "Hey, Madam." He pet the cat's soft, sleek white fur- though considering the length it would have better been called 'hair'. Finally the shoes came off and Francis motioned for the cat to follow him to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? Ah! Your food bowl's _empty_! I'm sorry, Madam!" He set his bag down on the dining table and tiptoed to reach the pastel pink dish on the high shelf as well as a red, squatty cylinder... As a reward for putting up with his mistake, Francis opened a can of the wet cat food- rather than the usual dry- and emptied half the contents in the bowl. Nearly tripping over the eager feline, he set the filled bowl next to the- thankfully- clean water dish. "There you go."

With that taken care of, Francis went back to get his bag. Right beside it was a small note:

_Francis, I won't be back until late tonight. There's dinner for you_

_in the fridge. Don't forget to feed your cat. She's your responsibility._

_-Adelais_

Francis tensed the corner of his mouth for a moment, then folded the note and put in in his pants' pocket. Well, Adelais was rarely home anyway, so this was nothing new. He would just finish his homework- which wasn't that much tonight- and read a book or clean his room. Just like every other day.

Curious what dinner was, he strolled to the refrigerator.

...Brioche? Wasn't that what he had for breakfast? And what was it doing in the _fridge_?

There was nothing else prepared, so...

...He smiled to himself. Looks like he'd be doing some cooking.

But Adelais never let him use the stove.

But ever since she had taken him to one of her client's restaurants and saw the chef prepare something with duck and white wine, well, it caught his attention and from that day on he always wanted to try making something.

Though he wasn't allowed to.

Though he really wanted to.

...

About two hours later he had finally found a stool large enough to stand on and reach the stove.

He dug out a crisp-leafed cookbook- condition due to lack of usage- and flipped through the pages, trying to find something he recognized... _Flip_... _Flip_... Ah! Here we go. That looked familiar... Basque Chicken? Hadn't Adelais ordered this once? As far as the actual cooking went, it only had a couple of steps. He had noticed there was chicken and bell peppers in the fridge. And it did look really, really good... Okay. It was decided.

But just as he went to pull the raw poultry out, that little voice in his head started to debate with itself. He was in third grade. Third grade and _cooking_? All by _himself_? Okay, granted he was the oldest in his class, but that didn't mean anything! He still had to tiptoe to reach the 'high' shelf, he forgot to feed his poor cat this morning, and he was still losing baby teeth! He wasn't old or mature enough to be cooking all by himself. The recipe called for simmering in a frying pan. What if he hurt himself? What if he started a fire? What if he was careful, but not careful enough?

This was a dumb idea, he thought, defeated. He closed the door slowly and put away the stool... Though he kept the book out, carrying it with him back to his room and stuffing it underneath his pillow. His thoughts fluttered back to the cold biscuit sitting idly in the fridge.

...

_Really_, though, what was it doing in there?

...

Miraculously enough, the hunger had vanished.

.-.-.-.-.

The next morning his alarm went off at promptly seven ten. On cue, he rose from his bed, stretched, then went to prepare for the following day, as every morning.

Once in the living area, he saw Adelais, looking over a few documents from work, no doubt. Deep cerulean eyes similar to his glanced up for a split second and then back down. "Good morning, Francis."

"Good morning ma-... Adelais." He mumbled, walking to the kitchen. No forgetting poor Madam this time.

Adelais looked down at her gold and pearl-crusted watch- that between you and me probably cost more than junior college tuition- and sighed. "Eat your breakfast and go to school. I have to leave... I'm already late for my meeting." Francis couldn't tell... Was she talking to herself or to him?

Francis dared. "Adelais?"

"What is it?"

He fiddled with the cat food bag. "Since you're leaving early, you'll be _back_ early?"

"Yes. Five thirty if traffic is light." She glanced again at him, scrunching her nose.

"Well, I was... I wanted to cook dinner with you tonight. Can we do it together?" Francis asked, beginning to pour the cat food.

Adelais finally stared at him, good and hard. After a brief moment of contemplation she shook her head. "We won't have the time to do that. I'll have to bring you home something... And how many times have I told you that navy blazer and that shade of yellow make you look like a cartoon? Don't embarrass yourself, now go change. I'll see you tonight." A couple of long, confident strides across the polished floor and she was gone.

Madam came waltzing up, mewling softly and rubbing against her person. Francis smiled and stroked her head between her ears. With a pur of content, the cat strode to her food dish and began eating her breakfast... Breakfast. The realization that the hadn't eaten last night floated through his head... Along with a mouthwatering smell...

He whirled his head to the counter and grinned. Adelais had made him something! He scurried off to grab the stool from last evening- though by now the purpose was disregarded...- and went to investigate. Were those crepes? _Adelais_ had made him _crepes_... and they were still warm!

"Thank you, mama!" Francis mumbled to himself, hurriedly getting a plate and piling his breakfast on it.

But with Adelais's busy schedule and his inability- and now a denied request- to cook, sometimes he wondered if the food just magically appeared.

.-.-.-.-.

"Gilbert! Come _on_!" Antonio shouted at his friend's front door, rapping the wood furiously. "School starts in _ten minutes_!" A small paper sack rested by Francis, stuffed with canned goods and rice boxes. "_Gilbert_!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" The door pushed open, almost decking Antonio in the nose. "Bye mom! Bye dad! Okay guys, let's go!" They bolted to the sidewalk and began to run for school, Antonio swerving back to pick up the bag he almost forgot. "Tonio, you brought stuff _already_?"

"Yep! Mama helped me get about twelve things!"

"Awesome! We'll win for sure!"

"Less talking, more running! We're gonna be _late_!"

The three boys sprinted the last few yards, out of breath by the time the bell rang- which was just as they got into the classroom. Antonio offered the bag of goods to the teacher, to which she promptly marked their success on the white board. Gilbert gave his friends an awesome thumbs up and the day began. First math, then English, then a quick recess break, followed by reading time and an educational movie... In the dark...

"_Gilbert, let go of my hair_!"

Ah...

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Gee, look at this. I just complained how hard it was to write about kids and then I added a baby Ludwig. Someone can brick me now. Seriously, or I might do it myself.

Sorry if anyone's OOC... I think Ludwig is the most in character here... and that's scary! I made Gilbert close to his family... Just cause. Like I said, I grew up as an only girl, no brothers or guy friends to see how they would react at this age. Sooo I'm kind of guessing through this entire thing, not gonna lie.

And Francis? The stereotypical rich kid with parent(s?) barely there one day and then hard-up with discipline the next... But they still have to feed their kid. And have you ever wanted to do something but realized you were too young and something bad might happen? What option did you choose? Glad to see Francis has a conscious this young! (Because we've all seen how he grows up... _o~honhonhon_!) I decided to cook myself breakfast in 5th grade... And the _taste_...

...I still don't see how I have French blood in me. Or Italian for that matter.

...Must be the Russian.

I'm just all over the map, aren't I?

Reviews for baby Ludwig? ...HOL- *dodges frying pan* _GEE_!


	3. Winners and Losers

**A/N**: Sorry this (short) chapter was so late. I just couldn't really get anything out right. Writer slump. But I took the old fashioned route, scribbling down notes, rough drafting it, taking the red pen across the page... I think I came up with a pretty good final copy. I saw the amount of hits over this time and I'm seriously pleased! Hello to Brazil, Bulgaria, Slovakia, and Indonesia!

Any reviews are accepted, I'm totally open to constructive criticism and whatnot.

So, we introduce a new character here, and I touched on the bullying issue. A little bit of info at the last A/N if you're interested in my own story and inspiration. You may want to read that to understand why I chose the mood for this chapter.

* * *

><p>"Alright, Francis! That makes forty five!" Gilbert cheered. "Hey! That means we <em>win<em> in this class!" It was Friday, the happiest day of all- not only because it marked the beginning of a great weekend, but also because it was the last day to turn in canned goods. And the trio had taken the lead with forty five items, a few ahead of the next group. Together, the class had collected one hundred and seven boxes and cans of food to be sent to the pantry, meaning that almost half of the donations were collected by the trio. The teacher congratulated them, tallied all the results, and finished counting everyone else's gatherings one more time before the final bell rang.

"Gilbert, do you wanna go play catch or something? It's a really nice day." Antonio offered. It had been gorgeous all week, surprisingly. Even their recess monitor had fallen asleep under the brilliant sun and light breeze, giving them extra play time. Despite it all though, Gilbert shook his head.

"Nah, I can't. Uncle Fritz is supposed to be staying at our house for a few days while they fix his home or something. Mom's going out later to see the work being done, so I'm gonna show him around! Gotta give him the awesome tour of the Weilschmidt house, you know. I'll see you guys Monday!" He waved them off and jogged from the room.

"Who did he say was staying over there?" Francis asked, packing his bag.

"Father Fritz. He preaches at the little church a few miles away from school. He's Gilbert's uncle." Ah. Yep, Father Fritz. Everyone knew who that was. The kind, older gentleman with a passion for religion and an even stronger desire for helping those in need. He had quite the reputation in this community- some called him a saint, others deemed him an angel. "Maybe Gil can take some lessons from him." Antonio chuckled, earning a sharp laugh from Francis.

"I hope so. Gilbert sure likes him. Do you remember the time he brought him for show and tell?"

"Uh huh! Those candies Father brought were really good!"

Francis smiled sheepishly. "I threw mine away. It hurt my teeth."

"Well shame on you!" Antonio pushed him lightly. "Do you want to go play?"

Francis nodded, grinning ear to ear. Antonio ran into the cloakroom to grab his backpack and the two were off.

The walk was quiet without Gilbert- not really that surprising. Occasionally Antonio would comment on how yellow a house was or how funny the yapping poodle around the corner had been. More or less, though, it was silent. A few teenagers were meeting up at the street corners, greeting each other with a mumbled syllable and a slight glance upward. "Hey, Francis? Why do the big kids have clicky boxes?"

"They what?" Francis looked over, squinting to get a better look. "Oh... Antonio, they're called 'cell phones'."

"Well, whatever they are. They're not paying attention to each other. Who are they talking to that's so important?" He frowned in thought.

"I don't know, Tonio. They're teenagers."

"Well, I'm not gonna do that. It's _rude_. I won't even have a click... a _cell phone_."

"You almost said _clicky box_!" Francis laughed, pushing his friend's shoulder. "Where do _you_ go to school?" Was the sarcastic statement.

"The same place you do!" Antonio stuck out his tongue, then slowly withdrew it in horror. "_Oh no_! I forgot something at school! I forgot my _lunchbox_!"

Francis scrunched his nose. "That's going to _smell_..."

"I've got to go back to get it! I'm sorry, Francis!" Antonio took off, nearly tripping over his feet.

"_Antonio_! Wait!"

He couldn't believe he forgot it! Stupid lunchbox! He mentally bashed himself as he tore across the streets. How had he forgotten? His lunch box was right next to his backpack, hanging on the back of the double hook in their cloakroom. Every day he checked it to make sure... That it hadn't fallen behind any school bins or supplies! Of course! He had been so excited to leave for the weekend he forgot to check. He must have knocked it off when he went to leave and... Silly Tonio. His heart was racing when he reached the school building again. Breath ragged, Antonio walked the rest of the way to retrieve the poor, forgotten lunchbox.

Yep. Wedged slightly behind the poster bin and the holiday containers. Reaching it was no difficult feat- it slid out with just a little tug. Antonio smiled in relief and turned to leave.

"_Hey_!"

Hm? Arthur? The grumpy, sweater-vested kid that sat in the back of the class? He always muttered how he knew everything, how school was a complete and utter waste of his time- so why was he still here? "Yes?" Antonio asked, giving a small smile.

Teachers were always whispering unfavorably about the shaggy blonde-haired child with the bandage on his cheek. Antonio felt sorry for him... But at the same time, Arthur had never been very nice. There would be the occasional tripping, a few rough shoves on the playground, and stuff would mysteriously disappear from his desk area. Arthur didn't have any friends either. He was always picking on someone, anyone he could. Francis had become immune to some of his teasing-which Antonio didn't see how that happened- and could even give his own friendly taunts at times. Once Roderick and Arthur had been paired for a school project, but the young aristocrat had informed the teacher how Arthur essentially ditched him at the last minute and left him to do it all on his own. The grades were given accordingly. And everyone had the same feelings towards him. Arthur was tolerated, not liked.

He sneered. "Hah! Did you forget _that_? You're so _stupid_!" Antonio frowned at his advancing steps and a quite monstrous eyebrow raised itself in mockery. "That'll be your name from now on. '_Stupid_ _Tonio_'."

"I don't like that name. Please stop it." He turned again to leave.

But a bony hand pulled the collar of his shirt back. "You don't _like _it? I'm sorry..." Those malicious words drooled sarcasm. "My Pop has a name for you. Wanna hear it?" Arthur smirked, leaning into the boy's ear and whispering something with curled lips.

Antonio's hair raised and his brow tensed. His lips pursed and fingers clutched the lunchbox tightly. That word. He had heard that word before, many times, in fact. Some man had thrown an inanimate object -perhaps it had been a bottle, or maybe a stone- at his family and screeched that word. Broken windows, destroyed property, even stolen possessions had all been related to that word. Antonio wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but after overhearing a few of his parents' conversations he put two and two together. That was the reason they moved. Because something was always being chucked at them or burned when that word was cried for everyone to hear. And now it was being used, directed only at him.

That word.

He tore away from Arthur, mustering up a surprisingly hateful glare. "I'm _leaving_." This was going to a bad place _fast_.

Arthur was taken aback- no one had said that to him before. It was always push, shove, yell, bite, punch until someone was crying or bleeding or both. But he laughed, and pushed Antonio into the door with a little more force than necessary. "Good! Get out of here!" Another shove. "Just leave for _good_! No one likes a-"

"_Shut up_!" Antonio screamed, pouncing on the boy, hands going straight for his neck. Arthur choked out, shocked but pleased at the violent reaction. He got exactly what he was looking for. He reached up to slap the other boy in the face and was released from his hold. A scratched-up hand latched itself to Antonio's curls and yanked violently. "_OUCH_!" He was wrenched into one of the bins, head knocking against the wall. But being the clumsy eight year old he was, Arthur tripped and they both collapsed into what they found to be the toy bin- After all, nothing hurt like a plastic dinosaur to the rear. Antonio shook Arthur by his shirt collar and knocked his head against the jagged checker board. The latter let out a sharp cry but still kept dealing punches and kicks- satisfied wherever they landed.

The bin tumped over, spilling the contents and the boys on the hardwood floor. Arthur pulled at Antonio's hair again, sinking small teeth into his arm. Antonio yelped and began to shake said arm vigorously in attempt for release. "Let go! _Let go_!" The teeth hurt him, but he was more afraid than in pain. No one had ever bitten him before. Not even the family dog -who had endured baby fussing and hair pulling- snapped his teeth. The feeling was foreign and most definitely unwanted. "You win!" He cried, choking a sob and pushing at Arthur's head. "Let me _go_!"

Some force answered his cries, yanking the two boys away from each other. Arthur's teeth had left marks that were starting to bleed slightly and a bump began to form where his head hit the wall. He shook the daze of the fight from his eyes and looked up.

Their teacher had Antonio by his injured arm, the principal had Arthur by the waist, and Francis was nervously poking his head out from the doorway.

...Uh oh.

.-.-.-.-.

When Antonio took off to retrieve his abandoned lunchbox, Francis knew he should follow him. So he took off the stylish and painful shoes his mother brought from Paris and threw them on his lawn, only a little ways away from where they stopped. He began to run back to the school as quickly as he could, stopping for a second or two as a car passed by. When he finally opened the door and jogged down the hall, a scream sounded from the class's cloakroom. Francis opened the door and found the two boys stuck in the bin, knocking each other around. He was shocked- the two had never liked one another but this was something else. Only the crash of their container snapped him from his shock and he bolted out of the room to find an adult.

So now they sat in the office waiting room, the principal speaking to a very loud and smart-mouthed Arthur. Antonio sat two seats away Francis, sniffling back tears and rubbing the bite marks on his arm. Francis shuffled in his seat awkwardly. The silence was overwhelming. He had to say something, good or bad... He decided on neutral. "...Tonio, did you get you lunchbox?" The boy only shook his head. "Oh..."

The door opened suddenly and Arthur stormed out. Antonio snapped to attention, leaning back to give the fuming boy open space. A finger tapped his shoulder and the principal motioned for him to come to the office next. Francis leaned over. "Good luck." He whispered.

Once the door closed behind them, Francis jumped to his feet and looked outside the office doorway. Just as he thought. Right outside was Arthur, scrunched up with his head in his knees. The elder leaned his back against the wall, plopped to the tile floor, and scooted over a few inches until he was a close distance to the boy. "Arthur, why did you do that to Tonio?" He dared to ask.

"Shut up, frog." He grumbled. "Leave me alone."

"Mm hm... _No_." Francis leaned forward to see under the folded arms. "Tell me first."

"Because he's a bloody... A bloody... He's an _idiot_!" Arthur yelled, raising his head. "He needed to-"

"_No_, Arthur. No one needs to get into fights. No one needs or deserves to get picked on. It's a _bad thing_." Francis huffed. "Why can't you see? Even you got hurt."

"It doesn't hurt!"

"Your head was _bleeding_."

"It _doesn't _hurt!"

"Okay, it doesn't hurt..." Francis sighed. Arthur gave him a dirty look and began to pick himself up to his feet. "Hey! Arthur, hold on."

"What the bloody hell do you want _now_? Just leave me alone!"

"_Hey_! Bad words!" Francis scolded, jumping to his own feet. "I was going to ask if you wanted someone to walk with you. You don't live close. Where are your parents?"

Arthur frowned. "Stay away from me, frog. I don't _like_ you and I don't want you around me." He got close, tiptoeing to reach Francis's eye level. "Leave. Me. _Alone_." And with that, he pushed the front doors open... Well, until he remembered they were pull doors... And left. Francis furrowed his eyebrows. Arthur had to be lonely, right? He always secluded himself away from other students no matter the age or gender. Didn't he need a friend? Of course, everyone needed someone.

He tutted thoughtfully. Well, right now his own friend needed him. Francis shrugged off the thought of Arthur for the time being and went to get what was probably a very lonely and confused lunchbox. He returned just in time to pass it along to Antonio, who thanked him with a teary smile and red cheeks.

"Boys, know where I can get a hold of your parents?" The principal asked.

"Well... Adelais is gone for a meeting in San Francisco." Francis frowned. "And Antonio's parents always work now. We were going to walk home today."

They were looked down on with a worried and hesitant gaze, but it soon melted. "Alright. Be _careful_, boys. And look both ways!"

"Yes, sir!"

This walk was even quieter than the one before the chaos.

"...Francis?" Antonio spoke softly, wiping his eyes. "Do you hate me now?"

The boy froze. "What? _No_! Why would I hate you?"

"B-Because... The f-fight..." He blubbered.

"Tonio, I'm not mad. I was _scared_ though. I thought you two would get really hurt. But you're okay, so there's no reason to be mad or angry, right?" Francis remembered his mother telling him the same thing when he wrecked his bicycle on the first day of purchase.

"No... I mean... I mean..." Antonio sniffed loudly and stopped walking. "...I mean the contest. I got in a fight. We _lost_."

...oh.

Was that really it?

"Well..." Francis shoved his hands in his pockets. "We can always buy the tickets. Gilbert will be sad we lost, though."

"So... You _don't_ hate me?"

"Nope. It sucks... But we helped some people either way, right? That's what it was about." Francis grinned.

And with this, Antonio stopped crying and smiled. "Yeah. You're right."

Plans were still on to play catch that day. After all, the sun was up and it was gorgeous outside.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Oh Arthur... I didn't mean to make you a bad kid! Your story shall unfold soon enough!

The 'word' was supposed to be a racial slur, in case you didn't get it. I didn't type it out, number one because I didn't research any and number two, racial slurs make me want to punt a baby to Mars. Don't like them.

Now, my little story.

I take bullying pretty seriously. I was pushed around from kindergarten to 6th grade- the year I transferred from Catholic elementary to Public junior high. Kids were absolutely HORRIBLE at the Catholic school. The teachers and even the priest wouldn't hear of me getting bullied. And the parents were blind to it as well. Of course, everyone but me was a little angel... If I bullied anyone I would have been in SO MUCH trouble with my parents. Though I wouldn't have anyway. It's crap. Utter crap. I was bullied for my physical stature- I was TALL. I mean really tall in elementary. Some of the kids came to my waist. (Though I've evened off at a lovely 5'9") My father took one doctor's opinion that I had some sort of immune deficiency because they had to put me in a stupid hip-brace when I was born. So they gave me a medical steroid and I blew up. I was huge. That's the main reason they bullied me. And I got a skin condition from the stress of bullying- teased about that too. It only went away when I transferred schools.

Though I will say... the only bully I had in Public school was promptly shoved into his locker and is now a very good friend of mine.

(I don't condone violence to solve problems. But sometimes it takes more than telling teachers.)

...Sooo did anyone call a cell phone a clicky box when they were a kid... Or was that just me?

Thank you for reading!


	4. Home

**A/N**: _Pretty please read!_

OMG it's been FOREVER! I'm not dead! I've just been super busy with scholarships and Senior junk... I told myself that I was gonna get a mega-chapter out soon because of my absence! I cranked and cranked out my words until there were no more to... er, crank? And really, the only reason I have a break today is because I'm seriously sick. Sick sucks. I'm typing this with my crappily painted purple nails and a red, black, and white scarf nearly choking me to warm up. Well... Could be worse.

The drama aspect comes in here. Also, for those of you who are sensitive to a little bit of language *cough f-bomb cough*, turn down the volume... And crappy German. I don't speak German. I work at a German restaurant (have worked for 4 years) and I can't pronounce a single thing correct. So... I used a translator... And we all know how those things are. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong! P.S. this is the last 3rd grade chapter.

Hello to Russia, the Netherlands, Vietnam, Finland, and Belgium! Also, while we're on this note... I think someone is reading this thing in Prussia. Let me explain. Under each bar there's the country name and all, but under one of my bars there's nothing. No name, zilch, zip, nada. I thought it was Canada at first, but no, Canada was over to the left, clear as day (for once). Can anyone explain this to me? Seriously, I have no idea what that means!

I'm sorry this was so late and I hope it will be worth the wait... Don't eat me... But reviews make author smile! *dodges frying pan* _Hey_! Tha- *brick'd*

* * *

><p><em>"They'll say it's all for the best, it's only part of a bigger plan.<em>

_But you will always have to be strong, those plans can go horribly wrong."_

_.-.-.-.  
><em>

Gilbert ran through the door, almost forgetting to shut it behind him- and even then forgetting to take off his shoes. "_Uncle Fritz_! _Uncle Fritz_!" He called, dashing through the utility, sliding across the linoleum floor and making his grand entrance in the dining area.

And by grand entrance, I mean he knocked right against the smelly plant- better known as eucalyptus- and sent the vase along with its contents crashing to the acid-washed surface. The glass vase shattered instantly, pieces flying every which way and the stems falling limp to the floor. Gilbert stood frozen with his bottom lip hooked under his right canine. His eyes widened and his brow rose as realization sunk in piece by fragmented piece. _Oops_.

A sharp gasp came from around the corner. "Gilbert Hartmut Weilschmidt!" The middle name. Oh no. Oh _no_. His mother had used the middle name. _The middle name_. The middle name was only used when filling out important school papers or when you were knee deep in... You get it. And with stern eyes glaring him down from above and the intimidating 'click' of a high-heel tapping the floor... It was pretty obvious which route his folly took. "Young man, would you like to explain _why _that beautiful and very _expensive_ wedding gift is lying in a thousand pieces on my dining room floor?"

"No... Not really." He gulped.

"You were running in the house again, huh? And even after I've told you so many times not to." ...Really, how did mothers know these things? "Gilbert, what am I going to do with you?" He stared down at his feet with guilty eyes before she motioned him away. "Well, _move_, son! The glass isn't going to clean itself... And step over it! Nothing hurts worse than glass to the foot."

"Yes, ma'am." Obeying his mother was not a choice now. Gilbert tip-toed around the glass and, with a final hop, landed scratchless on the opposite side. "_Mommy_," he began, making sure that the big puppy dog eyes were in play. When her face dropped the flustered state, he dared to move the topic of their speech from the vase- _used to be_ vase- to something else. Anything else. "...Is Uncle Fritz here?"

"Huh?" She sighed, walking past him. "You break the expensive vase and all you can think about is your uncle..." Gilbert frowned. She said it like it was a bad thing. "He'll be here later." She leaned over the copious amount of haphazardly placed boots and need-to-be laundered clothes to reach the broom and dust pan. "He's at the church trying to get business together."

Truthfully, it was odd to see his mother like that- stuffed in a black-clad business suit with her hair pulled back in a tight bun and the face paint she only wore before she left for work and right after she got back... All the while sweeping vigorously with the frayed, cracked yellow broom they said to have bought before Gilbert was born. He liked the second half of her better- not for the fact she was _working_, but rather that he knew that side the best. Even when his dad brought him to her office at the very top of the tall, shiny reflection building (which would better be known as Modern Insurance Company) she had stopped her usual filing ritual to re-do the buttons on his jacket or tie a pesky shoelace. Sometimes she would straighten dad's tie and brush the wind-blown long, blonde locks from his face. Always working for their benefit and cleaning up after their messes. That was mom.

"...Oh." Back to the subject, he was slightly disappointed that Fritz wasn't waiting for his awesome self already. But before he could express his upset through words, a loud wail came from the hallway. Gilbert jumped, the cry catching him off guard. "Was that _Luddy_?"

His mother set the broom against the wall and walked past him. "Good _Lord_... That boy's been fussing all day!" Ludwig? Fussy? Usually Gilbert was the one getting yelled at for making too much of a racket! What on earth was making his brother cry so loud? The remains of the demolished vase were soon forgotten, as both mother and big brother rushed to the sobbing toddler. "Baby, what's wrong?" Mother cooed, picking him up with surprisingly little effort. Gilbert craned his body upward, falling over on tiptoes to see brother's red, tear-stained cheeks.

"What's wrong? Is Lud okay? What's wrong with him?" Gilbert tapped his mother's leg over and over but nevertheless remained ignored.

The back of a nurturing hand caressed the skin of Ludwig's forehead. "You're a little warm..." She tutted, a small crease imprinted in her brow. Hoisting him on her right hip, she rubbed his back and turned to leave, almost tripping over the bouncing third grader. "Gilbert, watch out. Watch _out_, I'm going to step on you!" He scurried out of the way, almost getting trampled by three inch heels.

He still followed close behind her, just like an intent puppy. After all, if mother said baby brother was feeling warm -mother, might it be added, who sent Gilbert to school with a runny nose and a hundred degree fever until lunch time- then something was definitely wrong. Ludwig was still sobbing, soiling the crisp, pressed blouse mother wore every three days with agonized tears and drool. That scrunched up, pained face could make even the awesome Gilbert flinch in sympathy- as a matter of fact, it did. So while his mother began to dial the number of what Gilbert assumed was the doctor, he ran off to his room in hopes of finding something to ease his little brother.

Mother swayed slowly, whispering almost nothing in particular to her son before the ringing stopped and a human secretary answered. "Yes, hello, this is Hilda Weilschmidt. I have two children who are both patients of Doctor Oxenstierna and I need to schedule an immediate appointment for my son Ludwig. Do you have any open slots for tomorrow? Yes. Yes, I can do a morning appointment." The cries had turned into pathetic hiccups. "Of course. That would be perfect."

At this point, Gilbert was clumsily running- sliding- over the slick floor, hugging the over-sized, stuffed canary otherwise known as Gilbird. Even though Ludwig was upset, he knew better than to interrupt one of mother's phone calls. So he jumped around, wiggling the bird silently to catch Ludwig's attention. The toddler caught a glimpse of it and raised his head curiously. Gilbert smirked and began to move the bird around more, creating a clumsy, silly dance with the toy.

"Yes, thank you... Gracious." Mother hung up the phone and began to look around for a datebook. "We'll get you better, baby... Gilbert, what in the _world _are you doing with _that chick_?"

"Luddy likes it! _Look_!" He giggled, spinning around with the toy a few times for extra flair. "Look at Gilbird, Luddy! Silly Gilbird, silly, silly Gilbird!" Ludwig laughed for a split second before crying out again, nestling in his mother's chest. All of the light building in Gilbert's face instantly vanished and was replaced by worry and guilt. "He _was _liking it! What did I do?"

"Honey, go to the living room, alright?" She guided Ludwig's chin up to her eye-level. Gilbert's shoulders drooped and he sulked over to the couches, muttering something incoherent with 'unawesome' used after every two words. Mother rubbed her finger from chin to the right ear, pressing slightly in just under the temple. At no reaction she did the same to his left ear and this time received a loud shriek as a response. " Oh, no, no, it's alright..." She shushed him gently. "Poor baby..." Just in case Gilbert would turn on the TV, she hurried to put Ludwig back in his crib. After all, an earache was no light matter, especially at this age. Silently and delicately she rocked him back and forth on his side until striking blue eyes fell closed.

It was no surprise to find Gilbert curled up in the arm corner of the couch, looking upset and down as ever. Mother smiled and shook her head, smoothing the back of her business skirt before sitting down next to him. "It's alright, Gilbert, it wasn't your fault. He just has an earache." She extended her arm around his shoulders and drew him in for a hug. "We have to be quiet, okay? No TV or games. Do you want to call Antonio or Francis?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I'll wait for Uncle Fritz." Disappointment was blatantly evident in his voice. Mother sighed and began to undo the bun on the back of her head.

"Well, it's almost five. I'm going to shower and then we'll start making dinner for dad, okay?" Gilbert nodded half-heartedly. "Remember, be quiet for your brother."

He sat there for a little while, tapping his arm to a random beat. This was the _definition_ of unawesome. First, out of sheer joy and excitement he crashed into the vase, only to find that his uncle- the reason for such behavior- wouldn't be there for quite some time later. Then the whole scene with poor Ludwig arose, the wailing, the phone call, and the bird... Suddenly an _hour_ had flown out the window. Gilbert groaned, pushing himself off the couch.

Despite the negative attitude, he was genuinely concerned for his brother. Was he in that much pain, in that much trouble? Gilbert snuck around the corner, waited for the hum of the shower to start, then darted into his brother's room with no hesitation. He turned to the crib and saw that Ludwig wasn't asleep. No, in fact the toddler was very much awake, fingers in his mouth and using the bars for standing support. "You sure like to see what's happening." Gilbert whispered, paying heed to his mother's warning. "Don't start crying, okay? Mom'll get mad."

Ludwig stared back at him like always with incredulous blue eyes. Hesitantly-from experience of what could and would happen- Gilbert held up his pointer finger, bobbing it for a second before Ludwig took interest and snatched it... Though he didn't bite it per usual, only grasped onto the digit and stared back. His legs wobbled but he remained upright and, much to Gilbert's amusement, 'at attention' "You _sure_ you're sick? You're pretty tough if you are." Gilbert smiled, still moving his finger. "My tough, awesome little brother... Not as much as I am, but you're close."

Both of them wobbled to maintain their balance, Gilbert on the crib's lower support bar and Ludwig just on his legs. "Man, you _are_ growing up. When mom came home with you... Well, I could _carry_ you back then. Now you're just a _fatty_." A distinct whine and the tightening grip on his finger told him that joke wasn't taken lightly. "Hey, calm down, I'm _kidding_!" He raised a hand to pat the toddler's head... but thought against it. "You're just a baby and you can't take a joke. You're going to be a _pain_ to grow up with..." That wasn't appreciated either, said the freshly bitten finger. "_Ouch_!" Gilbert hissed, withdrawing instantly. "When are you gonna use your mouth to do something _besides_ bite me? It was cute when you didn't have teeth, now it just hurts!"

"..'il."

...What was that? Gilbert cocked his head... And it happened again, though a bit different this time.

"_Gil_!" Burst from the toddler's mouth. The vibrations from that word rang through his ears and the pain started again. Ludwig fell down fromsudden shock, the series of noise creating one painful domino effect.

It took Gilbert a moment to collect himself and close his mouth. But once he did, he sprinted out of the room in a fit. "_Mom_! _Mooom_!" He ran up the stairs, through his parents' room, and knocked furiously on the bathroom door with both of his fists. "Mom! Mom, get _out_! _Mom_!" He screamed. "It's Ludwig! Get out, mom, it's _Ludwig_!"

The knob rattled and the door flung open, mother standing in a very dishelved- and quite soaked- state with a purple towel being her only source of coverage. "_Mein Gott_, boy! What is it? Your brother? What's wrong?"

"Luddy _talked_! _He talked_!" Gilbert jumped up and down in a frenzy. "He said 'Gil'! He said _my name_!" His mother tightened the towel around her chest and went to assess the situation.

"I thought I told you to be _quiet_ for your brother."

"I _was_ quiet! I was whispering!"

He received a practical look soon after. "You are the loudest, most talkative child I have ever known." Mother sighed, shushing both her sons- the action the same, the tone much different. "It's okay, it's okay, baby..."

"But mom," thank goodness he remembered to whisper! "I was quiet, I swear! And Luddy _talked_. He said 'Gil'."

"That so?"

"Mom! It's his _first word_!" Gilbert stomped his foot, protesting. "It's a big deal! My name was the first thing he said!"

Mother stroked Ludwig's arm, musing the idea over. "You know, Gilbert... If you're telling the truth then you're right."

He was taken aback. _Lie_? Lie about something like this? "I _am_! I'm telling the truth! Here, he can do it again."

But a steady hand blocked his advances. "_Quiet_. There will be plenty of other times to prove that you're right, but your brother needs to calm down and sleep. He'll get better quicker if he rests." So they stood there, waiting for teary blue eyes to daze and close. A light blue blanket was pulled across his shoulders and mother shooed Gilbert out of the room, closing it quietly behind them.

"Mom, I _swear_ he talked!"

"Calm _down_, honey." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Let me get some clothes on before you say anything else." Still, Gilbert followed her like a chick would a mother hen insisting and insisting...

This only stopped when she threatened his TV rights for the weekend.

.-.-.-.

The rest of the afternoon passed by agonizingly slow. As it would turn out, Fritz wouldn't be arriving until late that night due to some unforeseen business involving the church. On top of that, Gilbert's father would be doing the honors of bringing him home and therefore would _also_ be back later than he usually was. Around six thirty Gilbert and his mother shared a quiet dinner with the occasional 'how's school going?' and 'did you fire anyone else today?'

"Go start your homework now so you can have a free weekend with your uncle, alright?" His mother cleared their places. "After Sunday mass we're all going to the church's community lunch so you can't do it then."

"Alright, I'm going..." Gilbert swung out of his seat and trudged to the living room to get his backpack. There were no wails or screeches coming from Ludwig's room, which meant he was alright for now. Good. Now, back to the daily grind... Three times five was fifteen and four times six was twenty four...

.-.-.-.

There was an odd spot in the pitifully small backyard, one hidden from all the neighbors' views. A thick-trunked oak tree grew up from the farthest possible corner of the yard and yet, despite the solitude in which it stood, somehow managed to look dignified. Almost as if it was proud of the cramped space it was pushing up from. But Gilbert never daunted on _this_ for too long. He loved this tree for the privacy it gave, hiding inhabitants of the branches from view with the abnormally thick clusters of leaves. Ludwig knew it as 'The Fluffy Tree' and the rest of the family knew it as 'Strange'. Either way, it was still the ideal place for sitting alone and thinking.

Gilbert loved his friends, but sometimes solitude offered its own comfort. Being one hundred percent awesome took its toll on his energy level- or maybe it was mother's warm and hearty dinners- and he needed a 'cool-off' of sorts. Once he had scrambled up a few levels and settled down on the widest branch, Gilbert was able to take in everything at his own pace.

Was the business with church really that bad? Gilbert knew the church-sponsored family picnic was coming up, but as far as he was concerned it was bleached teeth soccer moms reeking of hair products and egoism that took care of those things. The toothless smiling grandmas brought crates and crates of food, well over enough to feed the hundred or so people that went. But somehow at the end of the day it was all gone, not a crumb from the breadbasket left.

Last year he persuaded Antonio to come with him- well, perhaps 'begged' is a better term to use. (The World War stories were interesting, but after the ship landed at harbor most of the veterans fell asleep.) The two boys had found an old soccer ball wedged between the rocks in the flowing background creek and through many trials and wet socks they managed to yank it from its hold. They ended up playing with for hours, and if mother hadn't remembered to pack a previously forgotten lunch, the ride home would have been very cranky and rumbly.

He could never get Francis to go with them. He would throw the 'my mother doesn't want me to' excuse, but the more Gilbert actually thought about it, the more he wondered about Francis' mother. And the more he wondered about that mother, he realized he had never actually met her. Ever. Sometimes a sleek black car with a strange logo on the trunk would pick him up from school on an icy or rainy day, but that was as far as his knowledge spread. He had met Antonio's mother on several occasions- a serene woman with a rounded chin and warm smile that somehow managed to bring candies wherever she went. Antonio called her 'Mama', but Gilbert's mother informed him to address her as 'Mrs. Carriedo' while she spoke to her as 'Isabella'.

Gilbert sighed. There were so many names in his head that he was surprised he remembered his own. And speaking of his name- you wouldn't believe the glow on this boy's face- he now had one more thing to brag about. 'Gil' being the first word to leave his baby brother's lips. Out of all the words, 'mama' and 'dada' and 'hi' and 'what' and all the other cliches toddlers blurt out, that personal sound 'Gil' was pride incarnate to the eldest. And even if his mother didn't believe him, even if he was the only one who heard it, the fact of the matter was that _he_ heard it. And for some reason that made him smile even more.

The afternoon sun was beginning to set and Gilbert frowned a the lost evening.

.-.-.-.

Time had passed so quickly, but Gilbert was still worn out. Just the after effect of being awesome- the now commonly used excuse- he decided. And with a minty taste from the toothpaste lingering in his mouth, Gilbert pulled down his bed's covers and crawled under the sheets.

From across the hall he could hear the soft echoes of his mother's singing, no doubt used to soothe Ludwig to sleep. Gilbert found that it had the same effect on him when sung clearly. How strange... But the concept couldn't be bothered with right now.. After all, if Uncle Fritz was indeed coming home late, odds were he'd see him in the morning. And that meant a very busy day. So he nuzzled down into the covers and closed his eyes, the warm weight of the blankets spreading across his body.

But then a whisper of a voice called out. "Gil. Honey, are you asleep?" He tossed over to see a dark silhouette peering in from the doorway.

"Mm... No..."

The outline, otherwise known as mother, slowly and softly floated to his bedside, the light from the window illuminating her pale features. It was obvious that Gilbert inherited most of her traits, but in the dim lighting they looked queerly- almost freakishly- identical. The curves of their eyes rose just a smidgen above the norm, cheek bones high under the bottom eye line, and a slightly pointed jaw created the perfect teardrop structure.

A hand lovingly brushed back his bangs and Gilbert wondered how this act could always be so gentle and nurturing, yet that same hand could offer a single finger to demand the final decision.

"Your uncle is finally here. You'll see him tomorrow, okay?" Her whispers seemed to be out of exhaustion rather than keeping the quiet peace.

"Okay." Gilbert mumbled. The covers were making it hard to talk, smothering him with the daze of sleep.

"I'm taking Ludwig to the doctor early in the morning, so this is our good morning and goodnight." She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. "Do me a favor and show Frederick around when I'm gone, alright?"

He smiled groggily and kissed her cheek in return. "Alright, momma."

"Good boy. I'll be back home around ten and we'll have lunch together. Now, let's get you to bed. It's late." The blankets of slumber were snugly secured around his collar line. "Goodnight, Gilbert. I love you."

"I love you too."

.-.-.-.

The first thing he felt the next morning was his breath taken away by a mammoth force. Gilbert instantly opened his eyes, but the sleep blurred his senses. It took him a few seconds to realize he was almost flying across his house- well, flying minus the death grip around his waist. The strength- he assumed- could have only belonged to his father and the familiar voice above him proved he was correct. Though instead of the collected tone he possessed, this one sounded panicked and rushed. A few words Gilbert couldn't make out because of the speed at which they were spoken, and a few he couldn't make out simply because they were foreign to him.

He never really thought of his father as scary- intimidating, yes, that's what you would call a six foot six inch, broad-shouldered mammoth of a man- but with that bellowing tone ringing through his head, Gilbert was terrified. To say the _least_.

His shoulders had been constricted and his knees put up. From the thick scent of leather and common sense, Gilbert figured out he had been thrown into the family's new car. A different pair of hands, delicate with bones evident under the paper-thin skin, straightened out his seat belt... Hands that seemed familiar enough.

"What's going on? ...Mom?" Gilbert yawned.

"Gilbert, you need to be _quiet_, okay?"

Uncle Fritz? A huge and yet somewhat confused smile spread across his face. "Uncle Fritz, what's going on?"

Kind, glazed olive eyes smiled down at him... Sadly? The usual wrinkles around his smile were gone and instead replaced with deep, concerned crevices. "Gilbert, please, be a good boy. Be quiet until I tell you, alright? Can you do that for your uncle?"

Something was wrong.

But he wouldn't question it. Not now. "...Uh huh." Came the sullen reply.

The passenger's door ripped open. "Start this _goddamn car_!" Gilbert jumped, slightly cowering back. Uncle Fritz quickly shut the backseat door and was up front in record time. "_Start it_!"

"Hartmut, calm down."

"Calm down? _Calm **down**_!" Yeah, dad, calm down and tell me what's wrong! Gilbert thought, though he would have never said such a thing to... To this... Before he could put a title to the raging man, the car lurched forward and out of the driveway.

An quite interesting conversation took place between his father and uncle- yelling and mumbling and screaming and whispering to no real diction, at least not one Gilbert could understand. He just wished he knew what was wrong. He had a feeling if he did then this would go over much smoother. Maybe the awesome he could even help. But no, the rambling just went on and on and on and on and on and-

The car halted, and Gilbert had never before been so thankful for a seat-belt. His father was gone in the blink of an eye and then the boy dared to speak. "Uncle Fritz, really, what's _going on_?"

"Let's get inside, Gilbert."

Inside? Just where exactly were they? He unbuckled himself and used two hands to open the car door... Just in time to dodge back from a speeding white van. "Hey! Jerk! Unawesome _jerk_!" He stuck out his tongue and blew a small raspberry. A cold hand enclosed around his own and dragged him in the same direction the vehicle had been going.

A big, red and white sign out front caught Gilbert's attention. He looked up and began to use the age-old trick of sounding out the syllables. _Al...man.. Hos..pi..tal_. Alman Hospital? That name sounded oddly familiar. He spent a while just staring up while being lugged across the area before the light switch clicked. That was the name his parents were shouting left and right before Ludwig was born. Why were they _here_ of all places? Was his mother going to give him _another_ baby brother? Or maybe she was she going to give Ludwig _back_? Was she going to give _him_ back?

"Uncle Fritz, is mom in there?"

"Yes, Gilbert... Yes she is." He mumbled, nearly breaking into a run across the street.

He thought for a minute with a bitten lip. "Is Ludwig in there too?"

Fritz took a moment, almost like he had to process the air around him. "...Yes, now come on."

The building was absolutely flooded with doctors and nurses... But no mother, no father, and certainly no baby brother. Through the foyer, into the double-doors, around the bend, down the ramp, across the hall and everywhere else... Gilbert was whisked left and right until he was positive his arm was going to detach itself from his body.

But just when he was about to complain, his nose found itself harshly acquainted with the back of his uncle's leg.

"Hartmut." Gilbert rubbed off the sting and peered over at the hunkered man on the waiting bench, blonde locks falling over his shaking shoulders and clasped face... Was that his _father_? "Harmut?"

The man mumbled something inaudible, not parting the curtain his hands had formed across his mouth. Gilbert hesitated before breaking free from his uncle's grasp and walking to his father, trying to get a look under his hands. "_Dad_?" Another mumble. "Dad, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Like a tiger uncaged, Gilbert's father bolted upwards, knocking the unsupported bench over with an ear-splitting '_KRAK_!' "Are you fucking _deaf_! She's dead! _Dead_, you stupid child, **_dead_**!" He roared, face red and tear-stained. Fritz immediately pulled Gilbert back, the figurative red flag shooting up and waving furiously.

"Calm _down_." He urged. "The situation is only going to get worse if you panic." There was a distinctive lump in his voice, pushing upward and cracking his normal speech. "Hilda is a strong woman. She's not one to back out of a fight. I've known her for _all_ her years and-"

"Oh? Well then, how _didn't_ you know she _died_ on impact?" Gilbert was terrified by the sneer, showing the upper gum of his canine. Who was this man? Surely not the father who lifted him over his head when Gilbert made some sort of great accomplishment. Surely not the father who attacked him with tickles until his sides split. No, if anything, this man would throw him over his head and _literally_ split his sides with his own bare hands.

And this man- this _monster_, kept on crowing the words 'she's dead, dead, dead'...

Gilbert didn't know why, but his hands began to shake. Tiny fingers trembled under some sort of invisible stress...

She? Hilda?

Mom.

He gulped down a lump that had somehow formed, for whatever reason. The back of his neck and his palms were covered in cold moisture... Why was he sweating like this?

Dead? Fight? Died... On impact?

There was no way.

The hand on Gilbert's shoulder tensed. "Gott, rette ihre seele... Leitfaden ihr in den Himmel."

"Pray all you want, Fritz, she's _not_ coming back!" Frigid, venomous blue eyes stared down at Gilbert, almost as if they blamed him for something he didn't do. His own red orbs seemed less vivid underneath such a destructive gaze. "Well?" His father dared him to speak.

"N-No..." Since when did his voice- his _awesome_, strong voice- tremble? Gilbert clenched his hands in a vain attempt to stop shaking, but he soon realized it wasn't possible. The tremors just traveled up his arms, through his shoulders, and over the rest of his body. "Sh-She's... Not."

The two adults looked down at him- not out of anger or misery, something more like shock. "Mom... She's not... Dead." Gilbert somehow managed to squeak out.

...He remembered in school how the teacher gathered them around for their new class story. Of course, the boy had been too busy pulling Elizabeta's hair and dropping eraser shavings down Roderich's coat to pay too much attention... But then Tino raised his hand and asked a pretty interesting question.

_"Ma'am, when the old man in the book died, what does that mean?"_

A few snickers had arose. Tino was in third grade and he didn't know what it meant to die? But their teacher smiled gently and answered: _"Tino, dead is when a person is no longer around. They can't be hugged or kissed, and can't give hugs or kisses either. When someone dies, they remain in photographs and in memories, but other than that they're never with us again. When someone is dead, they go home."_

The class became quiet soon afterwards...

And now they were saying that his mom was dead? That she could no longer give hugs or kisses? That the only places she would remain were in pictures? No... No, that couldn't be true! What about Ludwig? Mom had to take care of him still- she had to hug and kiss him! He was still just a baby! And what about Gilbert? Didn't he deserve those things as well? And hadn't she huffed once or twice that his father still needed to be looked after?

No. No, no, no... this was all a lie. Some elaborate joke to make him sick... To make him feel so bad for... Breaking the vase! Yes, that _had_ to be it! Gilbert felt the corners up his mouth quiver upward. This was a prank to make him feel guilty for breaking that expensive vase! His mother wasn't dead, no, oh no...

She had gone home.

"Gilbert..."

It was just a joke.

"Son. _Son_."

An extremely distasteful joke.

He jumped when the double doors burst open again. "_Gil_!" Before he knew it, Gilbert had his breath knocked from his lungs as well as a familiar peer latched around him.

"Ow! Francis? Hey... Let me go..."

Francis pulled away, but kept his hands on Gilbert's shoulders. He looked sad... Even though he wasn't crying and his face wasn't red, Gilbert could feel an air of... Well, just sad. There was really no other way to put it. "I'm so sorry, Gil..."

"Huh?"

"The wreck... Wasn't your..."

Gilbert shrugged him off. "Mom's fine. It's just a prank."

"A... _What_?"

"Yeah." He smirked, a sickening arrogance building in his tone. "I broke an expensive vase yesterday, so they're getting back at me. Figured that out all by _myself_!"

"But..."

"It's okay, Francis. They said mom was dead... But when someone's dead they _go home_, remember? It's just a joke. A word pun. They thought I wasn't smart enough to realize what happened... But I _am_."

"Gil... I don't think..." Francis didn't know what to say. A prank? There was no way that could be right.

...This morning he was yanked from bed by Adelais, snapping at someone over the phone and dragging him along out to the car. Francis was in a complete state of shock, especially at the fact that his mother was there... Mother who wasn't supposed to return from her business trip this soon... When he asked what was going on, Adelais took in a deep breath and calmly said: _One of our best workers was driving drunk and had a wreck by the church. There's no reason why I wouldn't be there. _Francis sighed- His mother was either leaving him behind for her work or dragging him into it.

But when they pulled into the hospital's entrance, Francis saw a very familiar champagne-toned car close to the emergency lane...

And then the gears started turning...

"Hey, Francis, you in there?" A sharp pat to the head snapped the boy from his thoughts, but the daze remained. A wreck in front of the church, the Weilschmidt family car, and only three family members accounted for. It made perfectly revolting sense. "Francis? Hey!"

"Gilbert, this_ isn't_ a joke!" Francis blurted. "Where's your mom? And where's your brother?"

A heaving sigh. "I already told you, mom's gone home!"

"Did you see her this morning?"

"No, but-"

"It's _not_ a prank! I don't know what your parents said, but Adelais doesn't joke around and she said there was an accident in front of the church this morning!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I _know_ she's at home. She probably wants you and Antonio to come over so she has an excuse to make those really yummy cookies." He smiled. "She eats a lot of them too, you know."

Francis was about to say something else, but was silenced by the approaching footsteps of a very solemn doctor. However, no matter the apologies, or the condolences, or even the 'slight chances' the adults discussed for the 'toddler's and Mr. Barnes' case' it wouldn't- couldn't- change Gilbert's mindset:

Mom had gone home and there she would be waiting for him.

.-.-.-.

_"I wonder where you're going... But one day I will follow you."_

* * *

><p>AN: Well... That was... You tell me ehehe.

(those italics are my english translation for 'Saihate- Farewell Song')

And Gilbert's father being 'six-six' isn't ridiculous. We have this kid in Sophomore grade, Cole, who's six-_seven_ going up. He's passed his dad who's just under six-seven. If he wasn't on the basketball team, I would personally climb a ladder to punch him in the throat. And I don't really know the kid it's just hard to miss him. (lol)

Gott rette ihre seele... Leitfaden ihr in den Himmel - (supposed to be) 'God, save her soul... Guide her into heaven'

Thank you for taking the time to read! Constructive criticism is always welcome!


	5. Just Fine

**A/N:** HOLY _HELL_. It's been so long! My late update excuse? Blame college. But thank you everyone for staying with me on this one and alerting and reviewing and favoriting... Especially TheMonsterThatLivesUnderUrBed who reviewed every single chapter and boosted my already over-sized ego... Everyone gets a bowl of Charlie's Italian internet pasta! Or pizza, whichever floats your boat.

The internet went on strike on my birthday! Yes, Wednesday, January 18 was my 17th birthday. *confetti explosion* Speaking of birthday, I chose to make Gilbert's the same as mine. Why? Because on January 18, 1701 Prussia was labeled as a kingdom. _Awesome, much?_

I really don't want anyone to think that I've been blowing off this story. I wrote this chapter five times, five different ways, and couldn't make up my mind. And when I did I spent hours over it, slaving to make sure it was a decent, well-bodied chapter... I even typed this chapter on my cell phone in my Agriculture class and e-mailed it to myself for revisions. If that isn't dedication, I don't know what is.

I decided this would be the follow-up chapter for Gilbert... I was originally going to do something completely different, but then I was all: _Hey, I can't just drop the death bomb and walk away like it's no big deal! UGH! Delete this one, too..._ And that's how this came to be. A little bit of background with a side of brother fluff. And crappy German doth lie ahead-eth.

But _enough_ of this! You didn't come here to listen to me ramble, you came to read fanfiction. And to review. You know you wanna... *dodges brick* Ah HA! You sneaky little fu- *frying pan'd* ...It's always _something_.

* * *

><p>Gilbert rose to a very unpleasant taste. He smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, scrunching his nose and eyebrows at the rude awakening. <em>Someone forgot to brush their teeth last night, huh? <em>The words echoed in his head as he grudgingly came to terms that, yes he did forget and that it was his own fault. He wondered if the expression 'better late than never' was one he could use in this situation. Probably not.

A warm weight pressed into his right side, numbing him from the shoulder blade down. Gilbert groaned, struggling to get out of this deathlock- or whatever the correct terminology was for being crushed. He soon realized this was easier said than done, and collapsed back on the mattress after a fit of squirming around. "This _has_ to stop... Ludwig..." He sighed and turned to face his captor. "This was cute when you were, like, three. Now, not so much."

A pair of icy blue- and very much awake- eyes glared back at him. Gilbert gasped when the force became greater and the tingling loss of sensation turned into excruciating pain. "Ow! Ow! Okay, I give! Uncle, uncle, _uncle_!" He chanted until released. "Ouch... Seriously, Ludwig, you've got to stop this. You're getting big." With a few choppy motions and quite some determination he kicked the covers off and started to rub the life back in his arm. "What's today? Wednesday? Four days left of break..."

Ludwig crawled across the bed and collapsed at the opposite edge. He muttered something inaudible and dropped his head in folded arms. Gilbert frowned, kneeling down at level to his younger brother and shaking his arm. Once he bothered Ludwig enough to get him to look up again, he pointed to his ear and made a puzzled expression.

The blonde felt a little exasperated at having to repeat himself...

"I SAID, _SLEEP_!"

Gilbert yelped, not expecting such an offensive volume change. "Shh! _Shh_!" He urged, waving his conscious hand. "Don't wake up dad!" He hissed and put said hand on his brother's mouth. Gilbert gulped, looking over his shoulder- listening for any sort of disturbed, groggy complaints. The heater clicked three times before steadily humming through the vents, but that was all. He sighed in relief, lowering his hand and clenching his fist to get the blood to thoroughly flow. "Lud, you know he's always been cranky in the morning."

Ludwig just frowned harder, nestling his head back down in the sheets. "Hey, come on. It's already eight thirty." Gilbert shook his shoulders. "Wake up, lazy bones. _Up_." Still, Ludwig refused to budge, laying like the heavy, stubborn lump he was. Gilbert stepped back, running fingers across the bottom of his jawline in thought. "Ludwig. Get up."

Ludwig wasn't exactly sure of what was going on in his brother's mind, but he knew one thing- from this bed he would not budge. He grasped onto the sheets with thick hands, adamant about keeping his place. The boy hadn't been awake for ten minutes and he had done something wrong. This was not going to be a bright and sunny day, was it? No, it was best to just huddle down and stay firmly planted, right where he was on this bed.

...On this bed that began to move...

The next thing he knew, Ludwig had collapsed on the floor, the shock hitting him right before the pain. What on earth happened! He was _just_ on top of the mattress, snuggled down for another rest and now he laid crumpled, upside-down on the floor... With his older brother suspiciously holding the corner of the top blanket.

Gilbert giggled. "You're all turned over." He grabbed a few inches of the blanket and slowly began to walk backwards, pulling Ludwig along with him. "Now get _up_! We gotta start another awesome day!" He started walking to the left, flipping his load- I mean, little brother- over on his stomach. "We only have a few days of vacation left. There's still _so much_ we need to do!"

Finally Ludwig gave in and staggered to his feet with a very discontented groan. Gilbert dropped the blanket and pulled the night shirt over his head, struggling with the neck line. He finally pulled his head through and tossed the shirt in the far corner of the room. "Today we can go feed the ducks. We have old bread and crackers. I don't know if they'll be out in the cold, though... Do ducks like the cold?"

Gilbert found a grey, long-sleeved sweatshirt and yanked it out from the mass-pit of wrinkled clothes. "Maybe the ducks are a first to like it." He found another shirt, though short-sleeved and less practical, and a change of undergarments. "Don't know why they would be."

Ludwig did his best to gather himself together, not paying much attention to the soft mumbles coming from his brother. He grabbed the ends of the blanket and wrapped it around him, taking in the warmth they still had from the night's sleep. He put his back to the edge of the bed and slid down to the floor.

This morning was so cold and quiet. It was actually quite disturbing.

"Alright, so it's the park." Gilbert hurriedly changing into the new set of clothes. He slapped a frustrated hand to his face, seeing that Ludwig made himself comfortable again. "_Aw_, come on, Lud! We don't have to be out long." He pouted, knowing he was just rambling on aimlessly to himself. Gilbert lifted his brother back to his feet and yanked the sheet down to his ankles. "That's the _last_ time that's gonna happen. I'm serious." Finally, a look of compliance.

Gilbert opened the drawer on the very bottom and started to fish around for a smaller set of winter clothes. "Alright, buddy. Your turn." He threw a thick sweatshirt and jacket on the bed and lifted Ludwig's arms up. After he pulled a red, warm sweatshirt over his head, Gilbert was brushed off and his brother pointed to a smaller room connecting to theirs. "What?" Gilbert huffed, pushing him along. "If you have to go bathroom, then _go_! You can do just fine without me." He managed to get his brother in the bathroom and shut the door without any other whines or complaints- _miraculously_.

Gilbert then stood on tiptoes, reaching his arm up to the bureau's top. He felt around for a bit until his fingers graced the edge of a small, curved container. "Come on... Come _on_... _Ah_!" He barely shifted his hands in time to catch the item, pausing for a second to make sure it was secure. With a sigh of relief, Gilbert brought it to the- much lower- night stand and placed it down carefully. "Pain in the _butt_..."

He left it alone and went on the hunt for jackets suitable to the weather. There were a few in the back of the closet that were too small for his arms- no problem, he could give them to Ludwig- and a grey overcoat that his uncle had left last week. How you leave your jacket when it's ten degrees Fahrenheit, Gilbert didn't know. But he was more than happy to have it now. Trying it on for size, he found the hem to reach just below his knees and the cuffs to extend about four inches past his hands. Perfect, he smiled, and rolled the cuffs little by little until a fair amount of fabric was gathered at his wrists. It was such a warm jacket, so soft and snuggly. Not scratchy like dad's coat, he thought, buttoning up the notches.

Ludwig came back, a little confused as to why his older brother was wearing his uncle's clothes. Gilbert let out a content sigh and motioned his brother to the night stand. Taking the container, he pulled very gently to unlatch the small clasps and jumped when they let out a very audible 'pop!' The older brother took out the contents- a small, clear earbud with a transparent cord running a short distance to a beige teardrop. "Hold still." He mumbled, grabbing his Ludwig's jaw. "What did that paper say... Over the back..."

After some trial and error- and discomfort on Ludwig's part- Gilbert finally latched the hearing aid on correctly. He checked one more time, then ruffled his brother's hair. "Okay. You turn it on and then we can go."

"_Mm_." Ludwig whined and covered his ears. The albino snorted and went to put the case back on the bureau.

"Are you hungry? We can stop by Uncle Fritz's house." Gilbert brought the thick coat he outgrew over to him. "Well?" A terse nod was the only reply. "Hey, it's _Uncle Fritz_! Try to be a little more excited!" He bopped his blonde head and draped the coat over him. "You can change your underwear by yourself. _I hope_."

"_GILBERT_!"

"Hey, hey _alright_!" Gilbert held his hands up defensively. "No more joking around... You stick in the mud."

.-.-.-.

The outside temperature was cold, though not as cold as Gilbert expected. Snow and ice still clung to the sidewalk from Christmas Eve's mini-blizzard, but most of that was in the process of becoming murky, muddy slush. Gilbert thought about leaving his gloves behind, but instead shoved them in his pants' pockets in case he ended up needing them later. Ludwig held on to the right rolled cuff, somehow perfectly fine with the warm clothes that encased- _smothered_- his body.

It was sunny outside with only a few wisps of clouds hanging in the deep blue sky. Gilbert thought it refreshing, like a weight had been dropped and all that was left was a clear and open mind. Brighter days were surely ahead now that the grey of winter had passed. "This way, Luddy."

A few years ago the church had to go through several renovations, as well as the priest's house that the parish supplied. To make things a little more convenient a 'new' house had been built from what used to be the second community center- the first being lost to an unfortunate fire- right beside the church. It was no bigger than a regular two-person home and, from the repairs and fresh coats of paint, you couldn't tell the difference between this and a completely new house.

Gilbert loved to go there. Not just because it was his uncle's house; Gilbert loved the colors, the style... Everything. The outside was a very pale grey, like the painter had added a dime-sized amount of black to gallons of white, while the door was a deep, vibrant cherry red. The roof was only standard in size and color, but several peach trees planted around the area had their leaves gracing its edges- when the seasons allowed it, that was. Now they were merely a few grey branches that stuck out of place.

Oh well. Gilbert could wait a few more months to see the blossoms again. He had been doing so for several years now.

Dragging Ludwig along- who was preoccupied with watching the birds fight for a mud puddle bath- Gilbert trudged to the front door and knocked the appropriate three times. A minute passed before it opened and revealed a fully-suited Uncle Fritz, adorned with formal attire from head to toe.

"Good morning, Uncle Fritz! You're dressed for church. Is there a mass today?"

It took the man a second to completely realize that his nephews were standing on his doorstep- one almost completely covered up and the other missing a tooth but having quite the personality. "Oh. No, Gilbert. Both of you come in, it's cold out here." Gilbert continued to pull his brother along until they were both in the house and the door was shut. "What are you two doing?"

"Oh, just gonna go feed the ducks before it gets too late." Gilbert answered, shaking off the coat and displaying the stale bread he hid underneath it. "Dad was asleep when we left, but we'll be back soon."

"Your father doesn't know you're here?" Fritz creased his brow, tending to the ridiculously tight hood on Ludwig's head. "Gilbert, I've told you before that you need to ask him for permission when you go out. Or at least leave a note." He sighed, finally untangling the strings and pulling off the over-sized coat.

"Hm?" The last sentence was a little too under-the-breath for Gilbert to pick up. "Well... He's all _grouchy_ when he wakes up..." He rolled the jacket with his arms and handed it to his uncle. "You left this at our house last time. It's really soft!"

Fritz paused, mouth slightly agape and brow becoming even more creased as he tried to recall actually _having_ such a thing. He finally shook his head and pushed it back to Gilbert. "If you really like it that much, then you can keep it. I don't even remember that coat."

"You don't? Oh _no_! Uncle Fritz, you're getting _old_!"

"What! Gilbert, that's rude to say to any adult! Much less your uncle!" Nevertheless, he couldn't help but smile and pinch one of his sides.

Gilbert yelped, flinching away. "Kesese! No, that _tickles_!" Ludwig looked up incredulously and took a few steps away from the madness that was his older brother. "Hey! No, don't leave me _alone_!" Red eyes pleaded, though hinting at something rather mischievous. "You know, Uncle Fritz... You should do that to Ludwig... He's being really boring today."

The priest left them be, knowing the real reason as to why they were here so early in the morning. After all, food was a growing boy's best friend. "Gilbert," He looked around for some kind of cereal that they would eat. "Gilbert, I need you to listen to me, okay?"

"Huh? _Oh_! Yes, Uncle Fritz, I'm listening." Gilbert snapped his head up from poking a very disgruntled Ludwig's side.

"There's going to be someone coming here to talk in about twenty minutes. It's a very, _very_ important talk." He finally found one of the ones Gilbert had chose. "You're more than welcome to stay here as long as you want, but it's important that you stay quiet." It had been a while since they had come over for this. The box date was still good... But how much did they usually eat now? "Can you tell me what I just said?"

"Someone important is coming... This and that... We can stay but we have to be _quiet_. We'll be gone to feed the ducks, anyway." He picked Ludwig up by his waist and waddled to the small dining table. Gilbert looked at a chair, then back to his brother in contemplation... Maybe if he let one hand... _Oh no_, there goes baby brother! He caught Ludwig just in time before he hit the ground and thought again about his predicament. Maybe if he used his foot... _Oh no_, now here goes big brother! That was close... Now, how on earth was he going to get his brother up in that chair?

Fritz came over with two semi-full bowls in one hand, a half gallon of milk in the other, and a look of surprise on his face. He laughed lightly, placing the items down one by one. "Ludwig's big enough to start doing things on his own, don't you think so? I remember when you were his age... Or younger, even." He placed the milk on the table very slowly as he relieved the moment. "Yes, you were four years old. It was in your first house, before Ludwig was born... It was time to eat and your father tried to pick you up into your chair, but you beat him to it. You had already pulled the chair out and were scrambling into your seat. All he had to do was hold it so you wouldn't fall over."

Gilbert stood there, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to remember that relatively recent memory. A warm, sweet smell... An object that was more stubborn than he was... A swirl of white and red... Nothing came together. It was just a muddled, pleasant mess that he didn't understand.

"Anyway..." Fritz sighed, settling into his own chair. "You can't keep holding your brother's hand or he'll never grow up. It's good to let him do things once in a while. He'll be going to school next year, right?" Gilbert nodded, giving up on recalling the events and realizing there was a bowl of good food in front of him. "That means he'll be a little older than everyone else in the class. He's got to have some independence."

"Yeah..." Gilbert mumbled, reaching for the milk. He filled his bowl up only halfway and went to pour some in Ludwig's, but suddenly stopped and snapped his head to his uncle. "Dad says we have to pour this for him, though." Fritz nodded in agreement and Gilbert smiled at the approval. "Okay. Hand it over, porky."

The man laughed, wincing at the spoon-to-face attack Ludwig dealt his brother. They really had grown up, hadn't they? Wasn't it just a few weeks ago when they first met? Gilbert had been so proud of the little blue bundle his mother brought home and even prouder when he saw the tiny human being inside of it.

...

No... That only seemed like days ago. Weeks- in relevance to his figurative time-line- would be when Hilda came running to him as a sobbing mess, screaming in their native tongue how scared and unprepared she was to raise a child and a family. This outburst had shocked the man to his core... But as the explanation came out slowly and shakily he began to put the pieces together. There was just too much of this and then there was too much of that- And now she was stuck between a rock and hard place with no way out... It was indeed a horrible puzzle.

And then a few hours later, when she had finally calmed down enough to speak without hiccups, the doorbell rang. Fritz had answered to a towering man, panting wildly and completely soaked from the night's rain. He didn't bother to catch his breath and he started begging- this great man, _begging_- to see Hilda. Fritz didn't know what to say to those desperate blue eyes, but he needn't speak after all. Hilda had done that for him, storming out of the living room and cursing this man from generation to generation. Her blazing scarlet eyes had no trace of the previous insecurity or weakness, nor did her sharp tongue have any mercy. But her screaming had not gone on for more than two or three minutes before the man lashed out as well. It was like two bulls butting heads- you just couldn't stop it.

But finally Frederick spoke loud enough to silence their quarrel with nothing more than a single yet powerful sentence: _This is no longer about a man and a woman. _And quite frankly, the rest didn't have to be said. He brought in Hartmut- the name transferred quickly from Hilda's voice to his knowledge- and sat the both of them on opposite sides of the dining room's table. _Long_-ways. There was so much emotion between the two of them, even as they were silent in their thoughts. It had taken over an hour, but they began mumbling and their hands began shaking- one from the chill of the rain and the other from chills of actuality. Slowly, grudgingly, bit by bit it was set in stone: They were in love and they were afraid.

He married the couple that night.

There was no anger when they made their promise. A promise to overcome any and everything through all odds and stand each others' grounds. A promise to hold whatever they had close, and to treasure it and thrive from the love and commitment. A promise to be a family and to protect that family, all of this sealed with a kiss- the oldest and strongest form of any contract.

The nine months had passed quickly.

It snowed heavily the night before... Or maybe it was the evening. Such a trivial thing hadn't mattered- What mattered was that almost four inches of compacted snow covered every road in town and the timing couldn't have been worse. Hilda's stomach had swelled past its limits and she couldn't hold it back for very much longer. Her darling, stubborn baby was ready to come into the world.

Hartmut had been a monster of anxiety, screaming about the transportation and the time and the obstacles... Fritz could only shake his head. There was no way to rush these things and they all knew it. An ambulance suited for this sort of weather was on its way and there was nothing else they could do.

A soft hand gripped the edge of his palm. "Frederick... When mother comes from the East..." Fingers tightened until they were white. "_Scheisse!_ ...When we see her, the _first_ thing I'll do is apologize." He laughed with her, brushing stray white strands from her brow.

Just then, they could faintly hear the sirens. Fritz helped Hilda to her feet as gently as he could, the pains of labor starting to take over her body. She only stumbled once or twice, but Hartmut decided that once or twice was _more_ than enough. Fritz watched rather unbelievably as he bent down below her waist, grabbed her by the thighs, and hoisted his wife up until she was perched on his left shoulder- like a parrot to a pirate. Hilda had protested at first, smacking the top of his head and kicking him in the chest with her heels, but it was clear to see she didn't mind this at all. As a matter of fact, the smile on her quivering lips said that she rather enjoyed it.

It had taken them ten minutes to get from their home to the hospital, ten _more_ for Hartmut to stop screaming, and an additional three hours until Fritz was allowed to see his sister again. The doctor came out in a clean, white overcoat and clipboard, explaining that there were no complications on the patients' behalves and everything had gone quite smoothly. After a minute of self-glorifying chit-chatter, he hushed about the delivery and led Fritz to the smaller, compact room.

"I'm surprised you haven't grown _old_ waiting." The familiar, warm voice chuckled. "I've been laying here for at least an hour and a half telling them to let you in." Fritz smiled down on her, the corners of his lips shifting from comfort to absolute wonder. There was barely a breath of human life securely grasped between her left arm and chest, like a priceless family heirloom- something you wanted to protect with your life but you were deathly terrified of breaking it. "It doesn't look like it..." Hilda smiled, turning a weary head. "But I can tell you right now that beyond these little wrinkles is something perfect. There's not a _single_ flaw with this boy."

Not keeping his eyes off the newborn, Fritz pulled the room's visitor chair around and sat down next to them. "I never saw you as a mother to a girl." He leaned in to actually _see_ the child, barely breathing for fear of disrupting something so wonderful. "And I suppose God saw it as well. I'm _so_ proud of you, Hilda."

She smiled quite brilliantly. "_Good_, because I'm proud of me, too." A very fine line of spittle ran down the infant's chin and she wiped it away with her finger. "Tell me, is there any sort of old blessing or prayer for him? To help him grow up to be greater than the average mind or stronger than his father or braver than his mother... Anything at all?"

"Well... I'm sure there are words written for it. But I believe that the real blessing and prayer would be _you_." The newborn murmured for a moment, settling into its mother's arms. "It's odd. Sometimes I can't remember where I left my shoes from two days ago or where I put the car keys a few hours after I get home... But I can remember the exact time and date of your birth. Nine fourteen a.m., February the twentieth. And I can also remember our parents fighting about your name. Father was insistent that you be called something more Americanized, like Emily or Annabelle... But mother put her foot down... '_You named the last one!_' I had never felt worse or better about myself in all my years. Even the present ones." The siblings shared a hushed laugh, both agreeing that their mother would say such a thing.

"Yes, that stays with me quite well... And I believe that today will forever be imprinted in my mind." Fritz shook his head lightly, eyes blurring the foreground from his reminiscing gaze. "Where did your husband go?"

"Hartmut went outside for a minute. You didn't see him go by?"

"No, I didn't. And that doesn't matter. He should be here with you!" Fritz slapped his legs and stood up. "Is he on the east or west side of the hospital?"

"West, I think... But don't be _so_ harsh on him! He did very well today." Hilda smiled, holding out her finger for her son to latch on to. "He only cried once. When we were talking about Gilbert's name." It was taken and held rather tightly for such new muscles. "I think that's when it hit him that _this_ was actually _real_."

Fritz bent down and kissed his sister lightly on the forehead. "I'll consider that. I probably won't see you until tomorrow morning, so goodbye and goodnight." He hesitated for a second before kissing his nephew's forehead as well, though much, _much_ gentler. "And goodnight to you, Gilbert."

A sniffly whine was the reply and Hilda let out an amused laugh. "Listen to _that_! He doesn't want you to leave! He hasn't even opened his eyes and he already loves you, _Uncle_ _Fritz_." He mused over that for just a moment before shutting the door quietly and leaving the two in peace.

It hadn't taken him very long to find Hartmut. After the elevator ride down and a walk out to the parking lot Fritz saw him sitting alone on a resting bench... Across the highway. "What on earth... _Hartmut_!" He called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "_Hartmut_! What is he doing?" Fritz began to jog at a steady pace, avoiding the massive clumps of snow and ice. He quickly whipped his head to check for oncoming traffic and- after confirming there was none- sprinted across the road. "Hartmut, what are you doing all the way..."

The light post behind the bench distorted the man's face with a sickly, yellow color. Shadows fell over his closed lids and jawline, erasing his youthful features and creating a rather disturbing image. Fritz would have sworn he died like this had it not been for trembling fingers rubbing the sides of a lit cigarette. The smoke trailed slovenly up into the air with circling wisps and created an unusually picturesque scene... Until Hartmut blew it away from his face. He finally opened his eyes and saw Fritz hovering over him with an emotion he couldn't define.

"I never smoked around Hilda when she was pregnant. You learn that sort of common sense in your early years." A hoarse and monotone voice.

"There's a difference between having common sense and having decency."

"Yeah, she tells me that all the time." He sniffed, letting the ashes fall freely on their own. "And now..." Hartmut shook his head and bit his upper lip, bottom set of teeth trail freely over the flesh. "You know, Father... I'm not a good man. I've done plenty of things that I hate, that I regret... I'm not ready to be a father."

The words hit Fritz like an oncoming train. "It doesn't _matter_ if you're ready or not!" He blurted. "That child... Gilbert is your _life_ now!"

It would have been perfect silence... Had a few brave souls decided not to drive past on the slick asphalt. Hartmut smirked and leaned his head back. "That sounded terrible, huh? I'm not good with words, Father. Never have been... Never will be. I want to be better, but I don't know if it'll happen." A fair amount of disdain coated his words. "And that's another reason why I'm not ready." He looked down at the smoldering cylinder, debating whether or not to take in its essence. "I don't want my son to be _anything_ like me."

Fritz sighed, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. "You'll never be good enough for Hilda. And you'll never be good enough for Gilbert."

"Yeah... Yeah, I know." Hartmut heaved his shoulders and stared up into the black, empty sky. "I've been married once before. Lady named Freda. She was absolutely _gorgeous_. Long, blonde hair... Deep blue eyes, just like the ocean... And her lips were perfect." He snorted. "We divorced after five months. No kids." Hartmut looked down at his shaking hand, the glow from the cigarette not the least bit comforting. "Three years later I met Hilda..."

A terribly long pause ensued itself between the two. Fritz looked up at the hospital, around the area where his sister was sleeping comfortably with her precious treasure. This might be a bumpy road, he thought, and sent a small prayer to his God above. _Gott, beschütze diese Familie... Schützen Sie die Liebe._.. Eventually Hartmut rose to his feet with an aching groan and tossed his cigarette on the ground. Stomping it into the snow and taking a breath of fresh air... He laughed.

"This is the last one I'll ever have. "

...

There was never a moment when Gilbert was not loved, when he wasn't treasured or adored. For the first few months Hilda had clung to him as if he was her only lifeline- and sometimes she would let her husband hold him. Then, when her maternity leave was over and she had to return to work, Frederick- now _Uncle Fritz_- had to drive her _and_ Gilbert to the office. It had taken her around twenty minutes to say goodbye to her precious boy, his carrier buckled in the backseat. And when her time was up she had to forcefully tear herself away and run with no behind glances... Even though she _knew_ that she would see him in less than eight hours.

At first, Gilbert began to make a fuss, muttering his baby nonsense and sniffling sobs. But when Uncle Fritz turned around with a worried look, the blubbering immediately stopped. Instead, his vibrant red eyes looked curiously at the man with such a silly face ahead of him and he grinned from ear to ear, squealing with delight that someone was still there and was still paying attention to him. After a brief moment of rejoicing the limelight, the infant's attention became focused on the street's movement- the hustling and bustling, the honking of angry taxi cab drivers... And even though he didn't know what it meant, he loved it. He clapped his chubby hands together and bounced in his seat with a good amount of enthusiasm.

Fritz leaned back and sighed in relief. He'd be okay. Hilda would have to take some pushes and shoves. Hartmut would have to take a _whallop_. But Gilbert would be just fine.

...

It was incredible to see what he had grown up to be- and only _so far_. He had indeed thrived and flourished like Fritz always prayed for. Even with his mother's passing he had maintained that disposition- though the _way_ that he managed such a thing was a little troublesome- and immediately taken hold of his brother's needy hand. Gilbert had grown up. Perhaps a little faster than what was originally desired... But he had become someone that even Uncle Fritz sometimes envied. Imagine _that_... A clergyman envious of an eleven year old's virtues.

"...Hilda would have been _so_ proud..."

"Hm?" Gilbert looked up, a fruity green circle clinging to his chin. "You're kinda quiet, Uncle Fritz. Is this person who's coming over someone bad?"

"Oh, no... Not at all. Is your cereal good?" He asked, rubbing the corners of his eyes.

"It's _always_ good. It's awesome."

"Next time you let me know when you're coming and I'll have better food here. If you're still hungry there are a few apples on the counter." Gilbert nodded and continue to shovel the colorful rings into his mouth. "Stop eating so _fast_, boy! You're going to get sick."

"Sorry..."

.-.-.-.

"Come on, get your coat on! It's just a few buttons..." Gilbert urged. Ludwig frowned, fingers not having such precise motor skills to handle the minuscule buttons. "Come on... Look, there's one! See, you can do it!" He began to re-do his own coat's cuffs. "Thanks for breakfast, Uncle Fritz. And the jacket."

"You're quite welcome." Fritz opened the door for them. "Have fun with your ducks. And _please_ tell your father exactly where you've been."

"Yes, Uncle Fritz. Bye-bye!" Gilbert yanked his little brother out of the doorway and went along- bread in hand. "The ducks will be happy that it's warm. They'll be out to play... I just hope I don't get bitten like last time. My butt remembers it all too well..." Ludwig let out a very soft chuckle and leaned into his brother's leg. "A_ha_! Finally got you to laugh! I'm so glad my pain makes you happy."

"L-L..." Ludwig stammered, touching the dial on the back of his ear. After a second of listening to the environment around him he grinned toothily- better, tooth_less_ly- and lifted his eyes to his brother's. "_Love you_!"

Gilbert's face slowly began to glow. "Thanks, buddy... Me too." He made sure to hang on to both the bread and Ludwig as he hurried their pace to a moderate jog. "Let's go! The ducks are probably really hungry by now!"

Just fine, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I never called it potty when I was young. I always called it bathroom. I was a formal child.

Speaking of child... I feel like a little kid writing about such a big issue... They say you have to experience something to write well about it and I think my work reflects that. Parts of it I was like, _SCORE_! And then other parts I was like... Oh. I tried my best to tie it all together, really. Any constructive criticism is much appreciated because I know I could have done better.

Oh well. Now I have some motivation to make it up by writing some super awesome chapters! Maybe there are happy endings.

I am not making sense at 11 at night.

Gott, beschütze diese Familie. Schützen Sie die Liebe. = God, protect this family. Protect the love.


	6. AN: Reason for Absense and Extra

**AN**: Hey, everyone, it's been a long time. A REAL long time. Anyway, I just wanted to kind of tell you what was going on... And I should have done this sooner! Really!

Okay. I've been smothered in college and scholarships. SMOTHERED. I exaggerate none. Plus, my graduation is May 25 and my prom was this April 14 so I've been scrambling to set up for those (granted I didn't go to my prom, but I did do a lot of the decorating work) and I had to retest the ACT... Which I didn't HAVE to do either, but apparently a 35 out of 36 (for my English section... my MAJOR) just isn't good enough! I literally just finished my theater events, my art teacher is out to get me... It's been one heck of a whirlwind.

Those have been my excuses for not working on this story. They're pretty reasonable, but a bit... roll-your-eyes-at kind of thing.

Here's my reason for a further delay.

Last night I was typing out a few things and my left hand goes completely numb. I spent the better part of two hours trying to get circulation back into it, but it didn't work. And I had a _meltdown_. My hands are the most important tools I have and I was terrified it was going to have to be cut off. My mother and I share Raynaud's syndrome- which is when certain areas of your body, mainly limbs, become cold and lose circulation- but this was nothing like it. My had wasn't cold, just numb. It was _scary_. This morning I woke up and my arm was in a lot of pain, but it went away after a while. Later on my fingers started to go numb but it was off-on-off-on... Really strange. Even now as I type they're a little numb.

As it would turn out, this has happened before. In tenth grade my other arm has no feeling in it for days and when it started to get better it hurt and hurt. I'm going to a doctor to get this all checked out but I think it's pretty safe to say that I've got something wrong with my nervous system- or just a part of it. I'm not healthy either. Like, not at all. I'm not, like, morbidly obese or anorexic or have a mental disorder, but still. I've got to start taking better care of myself and that means getting up and moving somehow instead of being cramped into the computer chair.

So I'm taking an extent on my break. It's not a hiatus, I swear, unless you need a fancy name for it. This story will be updated mid-to-late May at the very latest the beginning of June. It's happening, I promise. The only reason it would be changed is if something goes terribly wrong- and in that case I would post a notice.

I'm not quitting. I'm enjoying this story way too much to quit. I just need some time to just take care of myself.

Yours truly,

Charolette


End file.
